The Changeling
by PervyPanda
Summary: "Is this a joke? Because I want to laugh." A Self-Insert dumped into medieval Britain. His legend, his companions, his love, his pet bug Radish... are completely unknown. "What about my backstoryyyyyy-!" Even I, the Narrator am confused. M for swearing and dark places (so far).
1. Chapter 1: The Narrator is confused

I tried to help, fuck did I try. Many times, many times I tried.

But they didn't fucking listen. They replied with spit and rocks.

So I gave up.

I understood, eventually. I wasn't charismatic enough to sway them. To dissuade them of their prejudices.

Why did I try. Who was I kidding.

I'm different. A _changeling_. Unwanted.

With my fell, "fae knowledge", "accursed brown skin", "foreign cloth", "giant blood" and "daemon gold eyes" that could bewitch holy women into eternal slavery, the fuck would they want me around?

So I left.

My perceived debts to those who saved me were unwanted.

They did not save me out of kindness, I realised, but of fear.

My only true companions in this new world threatened them into it. Who are, ironically, the true fae… I think.

Glowing lights of all colours about the size of my fingernail, capable of shifting a small rock with difficulty, but manipulating and casting illusions with ease.

I've yet to meet anything else to call "fae" or disfavor the hypothesis, so I assume that's what they are. The term _Fae _is pretty catch all anyway.

The light themselves can't communicate with me further than vague notions and emotions, plus they seem rather… _simple_.

And so, here I am.

Not fourteen days into a new reality, and homeless on the road accompanied by two dozen floaty light things, clearly of magical nature, with not a fucking clue **why**.

Ah, did I mention this was medieval times? As in, King Arthur, (or a '_Ing Artur!_ at least) medieval times. No? Well now you know.

… At least I'm not dead.

…

I think.

Probably?

Possibly.

Perhaps.

…

At least I have the magic bugs- oi.

The bugs were flying away.

Oi.

They swarmed into the treeline to my left. I follow after, breaking into a light jog.

They weren't all that fast, but they could fly. I however, had to navigate a web of exposed roots and loose rocks and underbrush.

I also wasn't the most _graceful _of men.

Despite the disloyal bugs slow speed, I was still tripping over twigs, stumbling on rocks and awkwardly bumbling through the shrubs, yet there was no sign of stopping from the bugs.

They didn't even transmit humour or background feelings like usual.

They had been my constant escorts, even showing intelligence to browbeat those villagers into healing me.

That they were now completely ignoring me in favour of some unseen destination or calling… hurt a bit.

_'It's silly but I'm lonely.'_

Suddenly (to me) one of the bugs slowed. The rest continued, but Radish (a radish coloured mote) seemed to fall back to me.

It conveyed slight exasperation.

Radish always stood out in the group. She felt like the big sister for some reason, often herding smaller (than her) motes of light back to the swarm when they strayed to far, bumping into motes that seemed alone, buzzing around the swarm as if to check up on everyone. Never joining a "clique" but welcome to all.

She "boinked" me on the nose, then snuggled in under my jacket collar. Her usual place.

I sniff.

"Thanks Radish. You're rad."

She conveyed what I could only call a huff. Then _hurrying_, _expectation_, _meeting _and _good_.

Pushing forward, despite being under my collar, in the direction of her compatriots.

Now content in the knowledge not all the bugs were backstabbing, betraying bastards, I calmed my jealous heart,

"Meeting, good? For you?"

_Both_, _all_, she conveyed. It felt like she was grouping me and the betrayer bugs together, apparently this meeting would be good for all of us.

'_Hmm.'_

With my head screwed on straight once more, and Radish's warmth near my neck I was stumbling much less and able to close the small distance between the swarm and I.

'_Humph, see if I give you belly rubs now ya disloyal bugs.'_

The forest was much the same as when we entered, not especially cramped and with good lighting, but the floor was covered in ferns and hidden roots, I still had no clue where we were headed.

We continued like this for some time, my head on the swivel, the bugs heading steadfast in a single direction, but a few more lights had decided to join Radish under my clothes or clinging to my hair.

_Don't sulk._

'_I'm not.'_

_Uhuh..._

Was basically how they all went.

I'm pretty sure an hour or two must have passed judging by the movement of the sun, but I'm still not tired.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me in this new (technically old) world is my stamina. My strength has not improved nor has my speed or agility, but for some reason I feel as fresh and energised as I did when I was strolling through the meadows an hour ago.

Like I _haven't _constantly traversed the forest floor for over an hour.

I theorised it was either something in the air that the other world didn't have, or the bugs were keeping me going with magic.

Honestly not sure which, the question is too complex for the bugs to comprehend and answers too, which is a shame.

Around the three hour mark, and most the bugs now reside on my person, taking turns to lead the way in short spurts of speed, I finally heard something different.

Something**s** that were different actually.

'_Running water. Neighing of horses. Thudding boots.'_

I slow.

'_And the murmurs of voices.'_

Surprisingly, the leading bugs slow with me.

_Don't sulk._

'_I'm not.'_

_Hmmmmm._

"Shut up." I whisper.

Now...

I crouch down, hidden by the underbrush and lean against a tree.

'_What to do...'_

"Knave! Behindan that tree! **Slowly!** Unarmed!"

'_Never mind'_

My bugs conveyed _worry_.

I briefly assure them.

Slowly, as instructed, a rise and step out from behind the tree. Hands held in front of me, palms empty I face in the direction of the voice.

A group dressed in green, no. Dressed in leather, with green dyed cloth over it, all wearing the classic robin hood hat thing.

'_Group of five. Armed. Scout? May be more. People coming over. Shiny? Metal. Knight?'_

Three of the five greenies had their bows notched and trained on me, the rear two were surveying the surrounding; for more people I assume.

Big clunky guy, who I can only assume to be a knight can be heard approaching from the direction of the voices, which had quieted. I can see the occasional glints of light over their armour, but they are too far away to make out details.

They seem taken aback by my appearance. Or it may be the shiny bugs on me. Probably a combination of both.

They look less sure, rear two shuffling, front three visibly blanching, but they kept their bows steady.

I spread my arms slightly to show I'm unarmed and unarmored.

"Who?!" Short and clipped, practically barked, but I could hear the slight waver in his undertones.

"A wegferend." I respond with calm I didn't feel. They were armed and a knight- no, two knights were approaching. My first encounter with armed primates was not ideal. Especially since they caught me hiding.

"Why hide?" Good question. But the leader greenie seems slightly more calm. Less twitchy.

Less twitchy is good.

"... You may have been bandits." Good a reason as any.

The knight was near now, greenie seemed to consider it. He eyed the bugs on my head warily however.

Gradually, as the knights approached, greenie and his boys lowered their bows. I too lowered my hands but consciously didn't put them in my pocket as I usually do when nervous.

I could tell the greenies were fighting fidgeting. So was I. I empathise.

With a jerk of his head, lead greenie walked me towards the knights, his boys flanking us and bringing up the rear. All of them adults, all barely as tall as my chest.

'_Stop staring at my bum…'_

The two knights came in deceivingly long strides, swords drawn and- oh shit…

I blink. Bugs stall. Greenies stop.

'_That… is not a normal sword.'_

Nor are those designs what I consider medieval.

The craftsmanship on the lead knight's armour and sword were not what comes to mind when you think "_history_".

No. Those were **Fantasy**.

Not only that, I recognised it.

My bugs seems to finally react too; _fear_, _blood_, _beast_, _**dragon**_.

Angles only machinery should be capable of, bulging, layered shoulder pauldrons, and iron side-skirt thing, pointed metal boots, vivid red accents on much of the otherwise (impossibly) pristine silver metal…

But above all the _helm_.

Draconic horns adorned it's sides, impractically large, but fucking intimidating. The underside of the horns where it connected to metal was glowing an angry looking red, and finally; _they gave off heat._

I don't know why that struck me as it did… but it did.

'_Dragon horns are hot. Good to know.'_

I knew who it was. She who was fictional. _Supposed _to be fictional.

"Sir Mordred, 'e claims ta be a wegferend." Yeaaap. I fight the urge to sigh, or cry, or smile, or faint, or do all of the above at the same time.

I feel dizzy.

I ignore lead greenie after the name. I ignore my bugs buzzing. I ignore the green boys kneeling. I ignore everything but those impossibly vivid green eyes peering up at me from through the slits of the female heirs' helm.

'_Is this a joke? Because I want to laugh.'_

"Hello princess."

My bugs only have a moment to buzz me a warning before a metal gaultney fills my vision.

'_Why is it never To Love-Ru or something…'_

**… … …**

"Shut (fill)."

'_...'_

"Shut (fill)."

'_Hmm?'_

"Shut (fill)."

'_Ah?'_

"Shut (fill)."

'_...'_

"Shut (fill)."

'_Wait a sec…'  
_  
"Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."

'_Huuuuuuuuuh!?'_

"――――I announce."

'_What!'_

"Your self is under me, my fate(doom) is in your sword. In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer."

'_Oi, oi, oi!'_

"Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."

'_That's way to fukin fast!'_

"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance ―――"

'_What about my backstoryyyyyyy-!'_

He was sucked somewhere, somehow, by someone… from somewhere.

…

Even I the narrator am confused.

…

Whatever.

**… … …**

AN: Under Dim Lighting Ch: 3 is underway, currently on 21 pages (though that's with my drabble formatting) but needs more work. I have a deadline tomorrow so most likely will not get it out today.

This is a plot bunny from a while back that I've just re-vamped before I get to work. :(

May make another chap if I feel like it.


	2. Chapter 2: My seat's over there right?

AN: I don't own Type-Moon or any of that.

* * *

.

A faint sense of regret, no, should I call it vague regret? Perhaps calling it "mild regret" would be more accurate?

That's the feeling I get when looking back on my childhood.

I was an active kid with good beginnings and good parents. We weren't rich, but we also weren't poor. We knew how to be frugal so there was never a lack of essentials.

My parents had good jobs, they worked for charities. My mum worked in child-care charities, a youth centre and later started training to be a teacher.

My dad organised charities, he would allocate funds, direct human resources and have organizations group up for better effect.

With those two I was naturally of decent moral fibre. They raised me well.

At five I got a little sister. I learnt care.

We were a happy family of four.

But it was nothing with family that I regret. Rather it was my schooling, or rather my clubs.

As I said I was an active kid, I did Karate from the age of six, competitive swimming from the age of seven, full contact rugby from the age eleven and anything else done in school PE and sports lessons.

Those three sports (karate, swimming, rugby) accompanied me for the better half of a decade.

I was proud of it.

I was good at it.

I had to stop.

Around half way through secondary school, I was about fifteen, things came to a head.

No family is perfect, but that wasn't the main thing. I was simply doing _too _much.

Rugby every other Lunch and Saturday mornings, swimming after school every other day and karate every Friday to Sunday evenings…

I'm not the smartest kid by any stretch, not stupid, but middling. So I had to work hard to get any satisfactory academic results at that time.

Eventually it got above my head. I couldn't keep up. I flunked a test completely.

It was stifling.

I tried to cling to them, but I they still slipped out from between my fingers.

First went karate, I got dropped off at the site by my parents, and with the home situation it was easy for me to sacrifice that if it meant easing the tension somewhat.

I don't really know if it made a difference, but I recall things cooling down a bit around that time.

However it wasn't enough for my situation.

It was the time of hellish GCSE's after all.

Next went swimming, I enjoyed it but I was never the best. I was just barely scraping by in B squad. It was fairly easy to inform the coach I wanted to focus more on academics.

The hardest to go was rugby. I loved it. I was good at it. Out of all of my sports I was best at rugby.

I clung to it. I saw exams as a river to cross, rugby was my passenger.

I endured.

I almost made it.

But in the end, it was taken from me by means beyond my grasp. I broke my leg. Completely unrelated to sport, I was in a car accident.

I was fully imbursed, my bills paid for and my grades took a turn for the better. Somehow... '_it's not as bad as I thought'_.

As soon as I thought that it was over.

My leg healed but I never returned to rugby.

I would come to regret that.

In the end, those subjects I struggled with; '_math, science, languages,'_ became completely irrelevant in college.

I went for an Art course.

That said, by no means do I think all that studying was useless. It taught me patience, and enriched the mind. The feeling of going beyond what I thought I was capable off in those subjects was something I do not regret.

But I do regret never going back to rugby. I could have also started going to karate by myself, or taken a dip in the public pool at any time, but I never did.

Maybe I just put those times on a pedestal, those sports were my youth, did I not want to defile them with half-hearted dedication?

Perhaps it was fear, was I scared of enduring that pressure, that pain once more? Perhaps. But most likely, it was just plain old _Laziness_. I became content. Comfortable.

By the time I realised I regretted it, I was all wrapped up in college work. I no longer had the luxury of time. I was not a child, but a young adult. I was working for money, working for my future, I was growing up.

'_Heh, my youth was no over yet'_ I thought back then, '_not by a long shot. I plan on going wild at university' _I **planned**. '_But I'm no longer a child.'_

Nostalgia, happiness, achievement, no little longing for a simpler time… but also mild regret.

That is the feeling I get looking back on my childhood.

'_I wonder if that's normal.'_

Why am I thinking of such boring things now you may wonder?

Because for the first time in what feels like decades, I once more stand before a classroom.

A different country, a different time, but still, a classroom.

"Stand."

Such nostalgia. I couldn't help but indulge in some useless memories.

"Bow."

Though this time I'm not just any old student.

"Be seated."

I straighten the collar of my jacket and pat down my hair.

"Ehh, It is unplanned but today we will be having a new student join us."

I wait patiently outside the sliding door.

"Yes, yes. I know it's at an awkward time, but there are circumstances. Regardless, I hope you act appropriately and help your new classmate as is propper."

My auto translate works well, but often makes normal phrases slightly old fashioned and stuffy. I get most of the meaning via tone of voice and pasture.

The teacher continues saying something.

Although I can't see her, she probably has one hand on her hip and one and holding a clipboard resting on her shoulder. Facial expression is probably professionally neutral. Neither too enthused nor too dispassionate. The appropriate amount of effort with the appropriate distance.

"Yes, well then. You may come in now."

As instructed I open the sliding door, ignoring the murmurs I walk to the blackboard (which is actually green).

_Artus Knightley. _I write in katakana.

Turning to the class, I observe.

'_39 students, 40 desks, one teacher, windows to the right, two exits to the left… not much of note, no one of particular interest... save one.'_

I bow politely as per custom. I rise and face them with a neutral smile.

"Greetings, my name is Artus Knightley, Artus is my given name, Knightley is my family name. I was born in Japan but have lived abroad for the last few years due to family circumstances. I am seventeen and like rugby."

I see the feigned polite curiosity of my contractor. My lips quirk.

"Let's get alon- oh heeey princess!" Smiling widely with the abrupt change of tone, I look to one person.

She suddenly look less composed.

"Due to family ties, my current place of residence is the Tohsaka mansion. I owe her a lot," I look to the class, still smiling but my eyes narrow to hide my mirth. "If any of you bully her…" I stop smiling, "**I'll kill ya**."

Her eye is twitching. She's resisting the urge to face-palm.

'_Guehehehe.'_

"Ah! With that said," I bow low once more, "let's get along yeah?"

Silence.

Rising I survey the scene. Seeing what I like and temporally content, I turn to the teacher.

"So, my seat's over there right?"

.

* * *

.

The last thing I recall was Mordred-chan punching me in the face.

Now I suddenly speak Japanese.

'_How strange.'_

But right now, I'm falling.

I impact, I breath, I land.

'_What?'_

More information is... downloaded? It's like knowledge I didn't know are suddenly surfacing in my mind. But only bits.

'_Holy Grail, Master, Command Seals, Servant…'_

Then it stops. I blink. I feel there should be more but I more or less realise what's going on.

I'm indoor. Dim yellow lighting. Shelves to my right. A sofa behind me. Fireplace before me. Door nestled in the corner and windows to my left covered by rattan curtains.

'_An attic maybe? Why would an attic have it's lights on with no one in there?' _

Ah, also the floorboards have quite the dent in them. That impact I felt was me landing. My metal boots have made quite the impressio- wait.

'_Metal boots?'_

Suddenly there were bangs on the door. I feel a weight in my hands, they are wrapped around a handle at chest height. I feel it's tip stab into the floor.

'_What? Sword?'_

The door is knocked down and a figure stumbles in carried by their momentum.

'_Oh yeah, this is actually happening isn't it.'_

_[Play Archer's Theme]_

I observe her.

She rights herself and stands on the fallen door, hands on her hip. She's young. Black hair tied in twin-tails, red long-sleeve top, a too short black skirt and black stockings.

'_Pretty cute.'_

I can't help but smirk. For some reason I feel calm, slightly amused and despite everything; clear minded.

I can faintly feel there's a connection between the two of us.

The girl narrows her eyes at my smirk and appearance, then looks surprised at something, suddenly composer breaks. Clutching her head turning around she squats out of distress. It's pretty amusing.

'_Her skirt is too short to squat in though...'_

… However she is relaxed. Despite the situation and distress there is no panic. Perhaps you could call it a loss of composure to outwardly show her distress, but you could also see it as a show of confidence to show an unknown man her back.

She has surety in her safety, be that out of arrogance, naivety or something else is yet to be seen.

She looks over her shoulder to me.

"Well? What are you supposed to be?" Nice composure for someone showing me their ass crack.

"Hmm. That's the first thing you say? It would seem I've gotten quite the unusual contractor." I surprise myself with my voice. It's different than I remember, deeper, yet also familiar. "Good grief, a little princess on my hands yet again."

'_Again?'_

She grunts and stands, walking off the door towards me where I wait, minding the cracked floorboards.

"Just to confirm..." her voice is haughtey yet cute. "You're my Servant, right?" She crosses her arms.

"I am a Servant, but are you are my Contractor? You were absent upon my summoning." I can't help but throw tit for tat.

"You aren't a baby bird. Don't joke like you imprint on your Lord when you first open your eyes." She tilts her head, I get the feeling she's trying to look down on me. "Well alright, fine. I'm just asking to confirm. _Master_-Servant relations should be clearly laid out, right from the start."

She stressed the word Master. Noting my use of Contractor instead. How amusing.

I can't help but smirk wider.

"Hmmm. Well then…" I pause for effect. "Why should I serve you, _princess_." I lean in, still towering over her.

'_Am I taller than before?'_

"Excuse me?" She looks taken aback.

"I'm used to serving princesses," I feel I am, "but I had a reason. What reason is there for me to serve you?" I step forward, looming. To her credit, she doesn't step back.

"I'm not entirely dissatisfied, you are rather cute," no visible reaction, "but that's it." She narrows her eyes. Good. "Why should you be _Princess _instead of _Girly _hmmm?" I once more stab my unknown sword into the floorboards to stamp my point. "Why should I serve you?"

A silent beat, then I turn, my sword magically sensing it's no longer needed, dissipates. It's not there, I can't feel it, but somehow I know it's always within reach.

I walk to the sofa a sit, hearing it creak under the combined weight of my body and armour.

'_Armour?'_

"If there is no reason… then I will simply fight this war myself." The words come out unbidden, but true. I would rather not enter a deathmatch with a child. I would prefer her safe.

"I see…" she gritts out, "you're not entirely... _dissatisfied _due to my looks, but you refuse to serve me without a reason?" It seems the quip on her looks is a bit of a sore point. She is very prideful. "Very well…"

Come to think of it, why _am _I provoking her. I don't want her fighting, but there was no reason to dissuade her in such an abrasive manner.

"You are my Servant, aren't you?" it seems to be a rhetorical question but I answer anyway.

"In form only. So I will obey only when it aligns with my own wishes," when I feel like it, "you aren't my Princess after all." That seems important.

"When there is fighting, I will fight alone." now I get to express my reasons. "I don't want a child fighting, nor do I really want to abey a mere child. I call my own shots. Until this _war,_" more like a skirmish, "ends, I would prefer you stay here where it's safe and hide."

"Of course you _are _my contractor after all, I have no quarrel with that. You summoned me to win you victory. My victory is your victory, I will yield all glory and spoil to you. No matter of your involvement henceforth, that will not change." You stay safe, I fight, I win, you get the grail. "Surely that is ideal?"

She's looking down. Being told to stay and hide must hurt ones pride after all. But I'm confident she will see reason. No child _wants _to die.

Seeing no response, I decide to end the conversation.

"Mah, leave everything to me girly, you will have victory, for now see to your own wellbeing." Still no reply.

She might feel guilty at me doing all the work. I smirk. How cute.

"Don't worry," I look at her bowed head with sincerity, "I don't expect anything more from you." I smile reassuringly. "You are my Contractor, but you have no need to be my Princess." It's a heavy name to bear after all, to be my Princess.

I nod at my own thoughtfulness. I'm so nice.

I hear an illusionary snap.

'_Huh?'_

Her frame trebles for a moment before exploding into movement. The sudden movement flipping up her too short skirt.

'_Oi, oi.'_

"Ahhhh, Now I'm mad!" Hands clenched in front of her she glares at me.

'_It's cute, but why?'_

"Reason? You need a reason huh? I'll give you a reason!" Flamboyantly waving her fist at me she clenches her right hand, it's Command Seals facing me, and holds her forearm with her left hand.

'_Oro?'_

"Fine! If you need a reason I'll give you a reason!"

'_Eh-!'_

"You wouldn't!" What?!

"I would! _Anfang!_"

'_Anfang!'_ The word reverbs through me too.

"'_Vertrag. Ein neuer Nagel'_…"

'_Why?!'_

"'_Ein neues Gesetz. Ein neues Gesetz'_..."

"Wait, are you serious girly?!" '_What did I do?!' _"You would use a precious Command Seal over silly pride?!"

Her voice gets louder at that.

"'_Ein neues Verbrechen.'_ Shut up! Get it, your my Servant! You need a reason?" She thrust up her hand. "Then by the power of my Command Seal; **I'm now your Princess!" **

A ring of read light suddenly spread out from her hand with an eerie ring, staggering me as it went through. A mark on her hand faded to a smudge.

"Ghu." I felt something change. The ringing noise faded

'_... Oi, oi…'_

She held the pose, embarrassment creeping onto her face. Suddenly realising what she just did.

I could only look at her slack jawed.

"Y-You impulsive girl! You realise what you just did right? You would waste such a precious Command Seal for t-this?! For such a broad Command?" '_What the heck Princess.'_ "...Couldn't you have worded it a bit better at least?"

She blushes bright red at that. Looking to the side she awkwardly lowers her hand.

"... L-Lets take this elsewhere…" Her voice was pretty meek _now_.

'_Goddamn bipolar Princesses…'_

.

* * *

.

The rest of the night wasn't particularly interesting.

…

"I have amnesia…"

"What do you mean you have amnesia?!"

...

"I have no astral form…"

"What do you mean you have no astral form?!"

…

"I have no Noble Phantasm…"

"**What do you mean you have no Noble Phantasm?!**"

…

"I want to go to school with you…"

"... Yeah, sure. Whatever…"

…

Nothing of particular importance.

.

* * *

.

AN: I should be working right now, but **I dun wanna!**

Haaaaaaaa. Still working on Under Dim Lighting, don't worry.


	3. Chapter 3: The premier of skincare

"Youth."

"What?" I turned.

"That's you're Origin; **Youth**."

"... Huh."

.

* * *

.

My eyes open. I was disoriented. My mind tried to match what I expected to what I saw.

I _expected _stone walls lit softly by orange crystals, the smell of lavender and a wooden beam ceiling.

Instead I saw cream plaster walls and ceiling, lit by the light streaming through glass windows and fine fabric drapes.

'_... Curtains. They are called curtains in the modern day and they're not particularly 'fine'...'_

The clashing memories, old, new, modern and medieval, disoriented me a while longer.

I sat up on my bed, observing, somewhat nonplussed, as the softest thing I had felt in decades catered my weight.

'_Decades… This luxury was once commonplace to me...'_

I rub my forehead. Then blink at the sight of my hands.

Smooth, unblemished, hairless.

'_What?'_

They weren't like that yesterda- oh.

'_Oh yeah, I remember.'_

Throwing off the covers and standing up, luxuriating at the all too soft carpet beneath my toes, I walk to the full sized mirror in my new room.

The room feels bright, the colors more vivid than I remember, the feel of air passing my skin far more noticable.

Standing before the mirror I take in my appearance.

Possessing clear brown skin, jaw-length silky black hair, princely features, haunting golden eyes and dressed in a baggy black shirt and shorts combo was a boy around the age of ten.

'_Me.'_

I clench my fist before me, feeling the strength flowing through my veins. It gave me some much needed reassurance.

Looking at the mirror once more, I... _**willed it**_.

I grew.

Or rather, I _aged_.

A few inches in height.

_Eleven_.

Slightly more broad.

_Twelve_.

Delicate features hardening.

_Thirteen_.

Baby fate gradually disappearing.

_Fourteen_.

Muscle definition more obvious.

_Fifteen_.

Filling in the clothes.

_Sixteen_.

Scars surfacing on the skin.

_Seventeen_.

I _**stopped**_.

I had aged seven years in seven seconds.

'_An Origin of [Youth] in the Age of Fae and a mentor like Merlin…'_

"... If I couldn't do at least this much I'd be a complete waste I suppose."

What "prettiness" and androgynous there was to my ten-year-old form had completely disappeared. I looked very masculine.

The original jaw-length hair had shortened considerably as my scalp grew, the hair length was spread over surface-area. Still, it was long enough to run my fingers through it, and felt just a silky as before.

My jaw was strong and defined, eyebrows thickened, skin tone a shade darker and brow more heavily set.

I was rather handsome, but not disgustingly so (you know what I'm talking about). My good looks are "simple", not so much beautiful, but without obvious flaw.

Along with my new stature that strained in the, now too small, top and shorts, I would be the archetype ruggedly handsome man if not for my skin.

My skin, now slightly bronzed but still as soft and clear as it was in child form, gave a feel of someone well cared for. Unblemished, but not delicate, full of vitality and colour.

As a result you have a mixed appeal of a manly man and a cultured scholar.

'_You could say the prince had become a king.'_

"... Just kiddin'."

'_No king is without wrinkles…unless you have Avalon...'_

**Magic: The premier of skincare.**

I do faintly remember what I was like before, eh… "hopping". And I can still see it in my current face, but it's like someone took my old face and had their way with it using an "artistic licence".

'_I.e: Photoshop.'_

**Magic: The premier in software editing.**

I huff, feeling my jaw. My _beardless _jaw.

Save the hair on my head, all body hair falls off when I de-age, it wouldn't do to have a ten-year-old with a hairy chest after all.

After aging up to an age capable of body-hair I still have to wait till it grows if I want a beard.

**Magic: The premier of shaving.**

'_Well… Merlin gave me potions to grow back hair rapidly for when I really wanted it.'_

**Magic: The premier of hair recovery.**

'_Whatever.'_

My body is built far, far better than it was when I was actually seventeen. Almost two meters and broad, once again magic has airbrushed me, bringing out my very best.

I clench my fist, once more feeling the strength run through my veins, but this time, my arm bulges. Everything below the head is "thick".

My hands are thick, wrists are thick, forearms are thick, biceps are thick, shoulders are thick, chest is thick, neck is thick, trunk is, waist is thick, thighs are thick, calves are thick, ankles are thick, feet are thick… yet I am still streamline.

I give the impression of a tall tree. _However_... I know I am also as flexible as a cat, strong as an ox whilst retaining that steadiness of an ancient oak.

That is how I trained after all. Proportion, endurance, strength, stamina, flexibility and fortitude…

'_Even if I don't remember that training right now…'_

And I get even bigger the more I age.

After making a few more poses I de-age, my clothes are straining pretty bad right now.

_Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen._

_**Stop**_.

At fourteen-ish my build had only just begun to truly expand in width, I looked more like a well built swimmer. Less stocky then when I was _actually _fourteen.

However my clothes now fit porpperly, this was the age I went to sleep in. Must have de-aged further whilst sleeping.

'_That happened a lot I think.'_

Smaller body = more body heat. Good for sleeping.

'_Time to get the day started.'_

I close my eyes for a second, focusing in on the connection with my dear Contractor.

'_Asleep.'_ I grin. '_Gooood.'_

Two doors down, Rin's eyes flew open. Completely awake.

'_... Aww.'_

.

* * *

.

**Servant**

Name: Artus

Class: Saber/Caster

Alignment: Neutral Good

Sex: Male

Height: 70cm - 250cm

Weight: 20kg - 120kg

Armament: Armour. Shield. Sword. Cape. _?_

.

**Parameters**

Strength: B-

Endurance: A

Agility: C-

Mana: D++

Luck: C

Noble Phantasm: None

.

**Class Skills**

**Magic Resistance**: A

Artus was a knight and warrior renowned for slaying the magical in life. He had also befriended the Elements, and trained with Fae offering them his hand in friendship and gained an eternal ally. Artus' Magical Resistance is not only empowered by his legend but also supported by the spirits themselves.

**Item Enchantment**: D+

A third-rate magus in life has just barely become a second-rate in death. However his speciality is tied to his fighting style closely enough to warrant the skill. A knock-off of the _Item Construction_ Skill.

**Independent Action**: E+

Empowered and supported by spirits and fairies, they are able to supply minimal assistance. Has received a downgrade due to being summoned in the modern world. Stronger in places of greater magical concentration and nature.

**Eye of the Mind (True)**: C

Artus has the skill due to his experience challenging a variety of Magus and Phantasmal Beasts. The mindset of a "challenger" was predominant in him even after his rise to power. His ability to learn was not to be underestimated.

**Clairvoyant (Demon)**: C+

Artus _understood _space. Due to his Demon eyes Artus was naturally able to track fast moving objects, "see" around corners and grasp the space around him. He is able to increase the rank by applying _Reinforcement _to his eyes.

**Riding**: C-

As a knight he was relatively skilled at horseback riding, but due to his weight and stature it was difficult to find a stead suitable. Skill receives a rank down due to Artus' inability to ride all but specially enhanced steads in life.

.

**Personal Skills**

**Comradeship of the Fairies**: B

Artus retains the close ties he had with all Fairies, Fae and Spirits of Gaia he had in life. This can be said to be a superior version of _Protection of the Fairies. _The Fairies actively help attack and defend, gifting resistance against elements, illusion and magecraft, whilst also capable of using illusion to confuse, empowering one's mana and adding minor elemental attributes to attacks. With this skill one is equal as partners with the Fae.

**Demon eyes of Dimension**: C

The Demon is foreign. The Demon is alien. The Demon has golden eyes. It is unknown if Artus was born with the eyes or came to possess them later in life, they are largely responsible for Artus' reputation as a _Changeling_. The title "Dimension" in this case refers to _layer_, _space _and _distance_.

**Protection from projectiles**: C

A slightly superior version of the skill _Protection from Arrows_. Although both skills provide protection from projectiles, _Protection from Arrows _is of course obtained fending off arrows, where as _Protection from projectiles _is gained via fending off a greater variety of projectiles. This skill provides a larger umbrella of concepts that fall under the term "projectile". On an unrelated note, it was said Artus was often plagued by nightmares of flaming rocks and dead cows flying at him.

**Bravery**: C

The ability to negate mental interference, pressure, confusion and charm. Artus is used to fighting against greater odds with lesser tools or simply empty-handed, his "fortitude" is able to not only empower himself but also his Fairy allies. However that is not all, Artus is famously known to be _belligerent_. Defying lords, nobles and knights as a commoner and later being one of the few to talk down his King. Artus does indeed possess great Bravery on and off the battlefield.

**Charisma**: D

Although he himself never considered he was particularly charming, Artus possessed an unspeakable dignity at times. Steady like a mountain, his presence and abnormal stature calmed and fortified allies whilst stifling enemies. Artus' Charisma is focused on the concept of "reliability". That is... at least when he is in adult form. As he takes a child like form, Charisma tends to show itself in a drastically different manner...

**Dual Summon**: C

Granted the _Class Skills_ of both the _Saber _and _Caster _class, an exceedingly rare trait. However Artus' qualifications as a _Saber _class has sufficiently close ties to his ability to use magic, thus granting the Dual Summon skill.

.

**Noble Phantasm**

Artus does not possess any _Noble Phantasms_, or perhaps one could say his _Noble Phantasms_ is **not **having any _Noble Phantasms_? In place of a NP, Artus instead possessing drastically more skills than the regular Servant. The weight that should be a NP is replaced by more empowered qualities of his life, thus using up that "free weight".

.

* * *

.

AN: Sup. I don't really like the beginning of the chapter, felt too narcissistic but that's just how it ended up when I was describing the aging process.

The Stats however was _incredibly _fun to do. I had at all times at least four other tabs on the Type-Moon wiki I was using for reference, it was very fun to scroll the skill list finding more or replacing skills I had already thought off to craft Artus.

Btw "Artus" is his only name. _Knightley _was only created for convenience. It's rare for someone not to have a second name in the modern day after all.

I hope you enjoy. Gonna start on the next chapter after posting. _Under Dim Lighting Ch: 3_ is also shaping up to be a fuckin long ass chapter.


	4. Chapter 4: Punching cotton

Somehow, presumably via magic, my clothes had been burnt from the **inside **out. Or that was the closest explanation I could find anyway.

There was a blackish crust that lines the inside of the cloth nearest my skin, _like _it had been burnt.

My t-shirt, relatively thin cotton had numerous holes in it, only held together by thin strips of fabric in some places, this meant the "black crust" could also be seen on the inside of my jumper I was wearing over my shirt.

My t-shirt was completely ruined, practically rags, my jumper being thicker and further from my skin was in better condition, but in the end was cut up for the extra cloth.

My trousers I am thankful for. They were thick, heavy duty camo pants. Lots of pockets, and durable cloth. Although there was much black crust on the inside of it, there were no holes, and my trousers were too valuable to cut up.

Fortunately my underwear had taken the brunt of the "burning" so there was much less damage around my groin. It would have been _uncomfortable _to have that crust rubbing on my dick…

The least damaged piece of clothing I had was my jacket. Thick, waterproof, long and dark green with brown fur lining the hood, the collar and neck area was protected by my (now ruined) scarf, the hood was burnt and had holes in it, but the body was pretty much completely unharmed, my t-shirt and jumper had soaked up all the damage.

My boots and socks were noticeably missing however...

It was those (rags of a t-shirt, semi-ruined jumper, singed camo trousers and jacket) that I woke up in upon arrival in this new (old) world.

At the age of eighteen, I woke up in Arthurian Britain.

About a fortnight later, wearing a slightly small black gambeson, my jacket, semi-repaired camo trousers and horribly uncomfortable small pointed shoes, that I was resoundingly knocked out by the homunculus, gender-confused, heir of Britain.

_'Yeah… I'm remembering now...'_

.

* * *

.

'_She got me on the chin…'_

I rubbed my chin tentatively.

"Ugh."

Wasn't even that hard, I had even managed to lean back slightly on instinct, but it was probably that that was my undoing.

Mordred, when standing her next to the greenies and other from before, was pretty short anyway, even with the slight boost from the heels on her boots, and given my height she would just barely be able to touch my nose should she stand on tippy-toes.

However, I was at the time looking down to face her- my chin was tilted down- and when she punched, I instinctively leaned back, thus exposing my chin.

I don't think she punched hard, else I would have a larger bruise from getting hit by a metal gauntlet, but she rattled my brain enough. I probably made quite the expression when my face went slack and my knees dropped…

'_How embarrassing.'_

I sit up, finding myself laying down on soil. Not a human soul in sight.

"Where'd they go?"

_Gone_. Radish conveyed.

My bugs were calmer now, like before they set off.

"... The meeting?"

_Done. Complete._

"... Kay then."

Apparently my bugs wanted me to meet Mordred.

I stand, bugs rising with me. Dusting Myself down and checking pockets.

'_Broken phone, playing cards, keys, pocket knife (modern), knife (medieval), hidden arrowheads, handmade slingshot, salted meat, wrapped cheese, strip remains of jumper… check.'_

I hear no one. Only the sounds of running water and wind through the leaves.

Judging my the sun, I don't think I was out long. Less than an hour in fact. But it would seem Mordred's group really has moved on.

'... Well. It's not like they would take some shady guy like me to Camelot or something would they?'

Unfortunately, life is rarely even so convenient.

'_Rather, I didn't even **know **I wanted to go the Camelot till less than an hour ago… I didn't know I was in a fantasy...'_

They might have been in a bit of a rush, I don't really blame them for not sticking around for some stranger to wake up. Or rather, I _can't _blame them. I don't know what the norm is for situations like these.

I mean, what do you _do _when you knock out a strangely dressed man surrounded by floating lights in the middle of the woods?

'_... Actually, just walking away seems pretty normal now.'_

At least one of them had the decency to straighten me out on the ground. I doubt I was knocked out flat on my back with all stones removed from my vicinity.

'_The stones may have been my bugs moving them though.'_

I walk in the general direction of where I heard the voices before, towards the river.

There was of course no one there. I'm not sure what I expected really.

There was no camp, no burnt out logs, no scraps, no remains of food.

Only the smell of poop and trapped mud.

'_Of course.'_

It was passed midday, but still some time off sunset, there was no need to set up camp, no need for a fire. They may have had some snacks, but food is precious, they would not leave waste.

They probably only stopped to fill canteens, water the horses and take a piss break.

'_Of course.'_

What did I expect?

There were more hoof marks travelling downstream. No continuous lines, so they didn't have any carts, in fact there was no other human foot marks once you got away from the little clearing.

They _all _had horses.

They would be travelling relatively quickly then. I can't count how many there are from the prints, but they were probably weren't a large group.

A relatively small company, all with horses and at least two knights who had _scouts _roaming around whenever they stop…

They must have been doing something important.

They probably couldn't afford to take me even if they wanted to.

Not to mention I had offended Mordred the moment I opened her mouth by calling her something to suggest she _wasn't _the manliest man to ever man.

'_Of course.'_

What did I expect?

I'm not sure why this is hitting me as it is to be honest. I guess… I'm just a bit confused.

Who wouldn't?

I wake up in the past accompanied my fairies, practically chased out of the village that "saved" me, find out I'm in a fantasy past, a **fictional **past… then get knocked out and left behind.

'_Well it's not like they owed me or anything, just feels… anticlimactic? Like I punched flesh and felt cotton?'_

I feel off balance and out of place. My head is spinning a bit, and not from the punch. I feel alone.

"... And why wouldn't I?" I ask nobody.

Only the rustle of leaves and lazy humming of my bugs fill the air.

'_Nobody answers.'_

Of course.

What did I expect.

...

_'Really...'_

...

_'What did I fucking expect...'_

...

_Warmth._

My eyes blink away tears,

'_Huh, when did I start crying?'_

_Warmth. Warmth._

I look.

_Warmth. Warmth. Warmth._

Lights, brighter in the dimming sun, surround me, nay. **Envelope **me.

_Warmth._

And at their head, hovering in front of my face, was a reddish-purple ball about the size of my thumb nail.

_Warmth._

I smile.

"Thanks Radish. You're rad."

I let out a long sigh looking up at the sky.

'_I probably needed to get that out the way anyway...'_

"What to do now then?"

No that's not right.

"Where am I?"

No wait.

"Are there more of you now?"

I go cross eyes at the swarm.

For now they truly deserved to be called a swarm.

Two dozen had somehow become nearly fifty.

'_What?'_

Frowning at them, I air the question.

"Do you know what to do?"

Silence.

Unfortunately even Radish was too dumb to grasp the problem.

"... Do you know how to get back to the road?"

Silence. Some of the small ones in the back were playing dodgems.

"... Which way did we come from?"

_I dunno._

Some of the smallest (newest?) ones were nesting in my hair.

...

'_Of course.'_

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

What did I expect?

.

* * *

.

By the way, my pocket knife is completely legal. A folding knife with a blade of three inches made of stainless steel. Completely legal obtained via legal means, and used for legal purposes.

'_Umu.'_

.

.

The school bell broke me from my daydreams.

I suddenly felt a bit emotional.

'_How long has it been since I experienced that?'_

How nostalgic.

"Well that's all for today class, no homework, travel safely, and Artus!" I raise my head at being called. "Focus more tomorrow, I saw you slaking near the end."

"Sorry sensei, still a bit jet lagged." I lie flawlessly with a sheepish smile.

"Hmph."

So nostalgic.

The sound of chairs scraping floor, bags being packed, doors being opened, words being murmured…

'_So nostalgic I could almost cry.'_

I stand and move to my contractor.

"Hey Rin, I was thinking a bit before, do you prefer Princess of Hime? Perhaps Hime-sama?"

Her glare and eye-role were adorable.

'_Can we stay behind and scout the school grounds?'_ I ask telepathically.

I get a slightly confused look and nod in return.

She doesn't seem to want to speak much right now.

'_Probably scared what she would say would blow her image… hur hur,'_

I get a kick in the shin.

Whatever.

I know this place might well become the place of a few skirmishes in the future, and memorising my Princesses surroundings were an obvious thing, but that's not why I want to scout it out more.

I want to see if I can find the Justice Puppy.

I quirk my lips up.

'_Maybe just straight up join the Archery club…'_

Huh?

I fall into contemplative silence.

'_That would give me more chances to kill Shinji…'_

I get a kick in the shin.

"No killing my classmates without good reason." She whispers to me.

I felt a pang of rage.

'_... If only you knew.'_

She looked at me confused.

'_Aw jeez… Imma have to destroy her worldview aren't I…'_

My lips quirk down.

'_Not fun.'_

I walk faster.

'_But not yet…'_

…

'_Goddammit I **really **don't wanna.'_

Well there goes my good mood...

.

* * *

.

AN: Wussup. This chapter felt a bit iffy. I felt like it was rather stunted. Not much happened but somehow it became rather wordy.

Not sure if I like it.

Do **you **prefer _Princess _of _Hime_? Perhaps some variant?

This chapter was a bit less drabble format than usual, it just ended up like that.

By the way, what do you think of my descriptions? Too clunky, boring, unneeded, am I repeating things, should I leave more to the imagination?

I do appreciate feedback.

Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5: I beg

AN: Gets dark. Be warned.

.

* * *

.

My peace was disrupted.

"Please help us. I beg thee."

I blink at the offender, propping my axe against the chopping block.

She was diminutive, most people were compared to me, and skinny. Young, though she was already a mother of two, yet still managed to maintain a waifish impression.

Coffee brown hair in a ponytail, oak brown eyes framed by long eyelashes and a smattering of brown freckles on tan weathered skin. She wore a light brown tunic and dark brown long skirt held in place by a brown leather belt.

Average enough, but pretty in a simple way. Something I've come to appreciate here.

I blink again. Then sniff.

'_She's had a bath.'_

Strange.

There was less grime in her hair, the usual soil and sweat smell was absent, even as she wrung her hands nervously I noticed the lack of dirt beneath her finger-nails.

Looking again, her clothes, although simple, were also rather clean, there was a lack of frayed edges… there were also buttons.

I narrow my eyes.

Buttons were a sign of wealth at this time, excess material meant to show of one's fortunes.

'_Or make a good impression...'_

This one had dressed up for me. To beg for help.

'_It must be pretty bad.'_

"Where's the chief?" The one who usually came to "deal" with me.

"Dead." How succinct.

"... I see. Why are you here? What about his eldest son?"

"He…" she fidgeted… _more _that is. "He sent me."

She looked at me with upturned eyes, they were starting getting moist, her lip trembled.

'_Oh boy.' _But I remained impassive. I'd been screwed over by a ploy that started like this once and that was enough. It won't happen again.

"He sent me to beg aid," she took a breath, and curtsied slowly. Her legs were trembling. "If it pleases, thee has mine body at thy mercy should sir help…"

I close my eyes. I can't even get angry. This is just how it is here.

The mother, I don't even know her name, taking my lack of response a bad way, starts to panic.

Her eyes well up with tears and she starts shaking.

"S-Sir, I b-beg of the-" Stuttering and quivering, she found herself choking on her words. She began to fumble with the buttons of her tunic, clearly unused to such a luxury.

She was trying to strip for me.

'_Goddammit.'_

She couldn't undo the buttons with trembling fingers, her knees drop, dirtying her skirt, she looked like she was about to break down.

She looks at me.

"**Stop**." The light stops fading from her eyes.

I sigh. Covering the distance between us in few steps, I haul her to her feet from under the armpit.

'_So light.'_

She barely came up to my stomach. He head was tilted fully back just to see my face at this close proximity.

"Don't you have a husband?" Or is it bad enough for the husband to endorse her cheating on him for the good of the village?

"Died with the Chief." Her tears well up once more.

'_Oops.'_

I step back and bow a fraction.

"My condolences."

She panics at my bow, even if she doesn't know the word she got my gesture. She still panics though. Not sure where to look her head swivels anywhere but me, unknowing of what to do.

"N-n-nay, ah, I-I me-" She chokes once more. Words stuck in her throat. I feel for her. Once more she curtsies, once more with legs trembling, but this time her head is lowered, looking at the ground.

"_I thank thee_." I could only barely hear her whisper.

"... Come. We will talk further inside." I walk to my "hut" and she follows, still keeping her head lowered.

'_I only woke up a few hours ago and I already want to go to sleep…'_

.

* * *

.

Incidents like that became increasingly common after I dealt with the first **it**.

"**It**" in this case being the Phantasmal Species: _Goblin_.

As in, real (as much as I) living, breathing, raping, raiding, Goblin marauders. Green little shits who live to fuck and murder. Seven of them.

I killed them all.

It was anticlimactic, as many things seem to be.

Myself, equipped with a Fae enchanted wooden cudgel and woodcutter's axe,**butchered **them.

My bugs guided me to their temporary camp and hid me under illusion till I got close enough, then I _saw_.

Then I **acted**.

Two little green heads were knocked clean off their necks with a single sweep of my cudgel. Another head was split in two by my axe. Another neck was broken by my kick. A skull was caved in by my elbow. An eye pierced by the broken shaft of my axe. The final was strangled to death in my bare hands.

It lasted less than a minute.

The bodies of defiled women returned to their villages, half eaten corpses of men recovered, and bound children were freed.

Of those women I am told only half survived to the next year, and half again were willing to leave their homes.

The men were burned in great pires. Their families would go hungry in the coming winter.

The children who watched as mother and sisters were raped, whilst fathers and brothers eaten, would return home with nary a bruise or cut. However innocence was lost to their eyes forevermore.

More people would come to me after that.

I accepted them all.

There were some incidents here and there, such as breaking the Chief's son for tolling those who would come for my aid, and anointing the brown haired women as my official correspondent, then later housing both her and her two daughters in my "hut"...

I received money, weapons, clothes and animals for my service, but I tended to only take what I needed and gave the rest to the families of those affected.

Myself, my bugs and a family of three lived like that in relative "peace" for a time.

Two weeks I spent in a village recovering from my arrival. A day on the road I met Mordred. A month more I spent wandering the lands. A month further I spent in solitude at the edge of a new village. A month later I was accommodating a family. A month later I was celebrating my nineteenth birthday.

A year added I was celebrating my twentieth.

A day after I had a visitor.

...

A somewhat distressed voice greeted my return to the hut from a successful day of hunting.

At first I thought it was someone new come for aid, but the voice was too cultured, it was not panicked or begging but... embarrassed?

Sheepish? A tad awkward?

I raise an eyebrow and as I listen.

"My ladies, please, I beg, I just want to speak with the one known as Sir Giant-kin. I mean no harm-" The voice wasn't deep but mellow. I sensed no malice.

"Liar!" Ah, it was one of the girls.

"Ye attacked Banana!" Heh. Banana is one of my bugs.

"I'm sorry! It was simply by accident, I swear to thee."

I can guess what's happened. Banana is always a bit in your face, but the girls love him. The guy must have swatted him on reflex.

The girls also know this. They're probably just teasing him because they're bored.

I look to the home guard bugs, their lack of action and continued laziness confirm the guest bears no ill intent.

That or he's skilled enough to hide it from my bugs, or has already swayed the bugs and girls to his side as to set a trap for me.

_'In which case worrying would do no good 'cause I'd be screwed anyway.'_

I approach the back of the "hut" from the woods, carrying a large boar over my shoulder effortlessly.

From this angle the voices are on directly the opposite side of the three-story "hut" from me.

The half of the swarm that always accompanies me bump into the lazing home guard as greeting, and they _all _follow me as I move towards the voices.

"Ye also wear armour and fine cloth! Ye are a _noble_!" One bell-like voice exclaims like it's an insult.

"Sir Giant-kin always said not to trust nobles because they'll kidnap us-for-being-so-pretty-and-sell-us-to-ugly-ladies-'cause-they're-jealous! You'll never take us alive fiend!" A younger tinkling voice rushes out.

"Wha-!"

"Noble's dog!"

"Goblin-brained bogie!"

"Dirty-minded imp!"

"Hentai orc-spawn!"

"Flat-chest maniac!"

""**Lolicon!**""

"Gwah!"

'_... My girls…'_ I wipe a tear from the eye. '_They grow up so fast.'_

Overflowing parental pride aside, the guy is probably not a bad one.

He's let the girls play with him for so long, the bugs don't react to his presence, and none of the intent wards have been tripped.

With that in mind I walk around my "hut" to relieve him of his torture.

"Virgin!"

"Cherry-boy!"

'_Ouch.'_

"That's enough girls," I interrupt their metaphysical teabagging, "I'm here now."

"Sir Giant-kin!" They rush up and hug my legs. One twelve, one ten, both girls. Both with brown hair and brown eyes. Little versions of their mother.

They giggle as a pick them up with ease, sitting on my forearms with their hands resting on my shoulders as I hold them at eye level. They both give me a kiss on the cheek and speak their usual greeting.

"I love you more than she does!" It feels nice to be so wanted.

"Where's your mother." I ask with a chuckle. Gods I feel like a father.

"The village-"

"Radish and a few others accompanied her-"

"She'll be back soon-"

"Never mind that-"

""Play with us?""

Both hug my neck and give me puppy dog eyes. At times like these more more twins than sisters.

"Sorry girls. This looks slightly important." They pout but let go. "Go play in your rooms, I'll tell you a bedtime story later."

Their eyes lit up, previous (feigned) disappointment forgotten. They new I couldn't play, but wanted to get something out of it anyway. Little imps.

I watch as they run to the "hut" and up the stairs to their bedrooms.

"Well then," I turn, smile dropping but not unfriendly, "who might ye be?"

"Ah," straightening up from the floor whence he was smite, the man addresses me with a bow. "Greeting Sir Giant-kin."

He stands tall and faces me with a straight back.

"I am Sir Gaheris, Knight of the Round Table. I have come today to treat with thee." He talks with dignity, largely unphased by my height and accompanying swarm. "May we talk?"

I'm mildly impressed.

'_I feel a new chapter is starting.'_

"... Come in."

'_Will we be seeing the king soon I wonder…'_

The two of us walk into the darkness of my hut.

.

* * *

.

"So, once more, I must ask how many traps have you planted for the upcoming, time-honoured tradition of indiscriminate murder of this generation's Murder-Death-Kill?"

"... You mean the Holy Grail War?"

"Did I stutter?"

"... _Aghhhhhh…_ This is gonna be a thing with you isn't it."

"You know me so well."

"..."

"So? Traps?"

"... It is beneath a magus such as I to u-"

"No traps then. Surveillance system?"

"... I am the Second Owner of this town, I need n-"

"No surveillance system then. Do you know who else has summoned?"

"... No."

Hmmm.

Well then.

"Y'know…" I smile at her, "other than a decent mana supply, you're a pretty shit Contractor..."

Her eye twitches as she flushes.

"Like, really fucking pathetic..."

Starting to tremble.

"As in, top-class weakling…"

Though, of embarrassment of anger I know not.

"You call yourself a magus and all, but…"

_But who cares._

"Really, the weak-link namby-pamby is y-"

"**SABEER-!**"

I move in quickly, slinging one arm around her shoulder and pulling her to my chest, other hand cupping her chin with my thumb on her lower lip.

_This is fun. This needs to be said._

"But, as my Princess I adore you regardless." I spoke with absolute sincerity. My voice light but my eyes solemn. Her pupils enlarge, voice stops, face flush, breath quickens…

Thank you **Charisma**.

Ahhhh. This isn't good.

'_I want to bully her more.'_

Why must I be like this?

"You know what they say," my thumb strokes her lip as I lean in, voice breathy as I speak, "_The dumber the kid the cuter they are._"

A beat passes.

She freezes. Realises our position. Remembers what I said. Realises what I just said.

Cue eye twitch.

'_Oh, I heard the illusionary snap again. I think I'm getting the hang of this.'_

"Saber." She says sweetly, not moving from her position or minding my thumb.

"Yes Princess?"

"_I will make you suffer._"

I smile. Sharp canines shine. Pit forms in my stomach.

"I look forward to it Princess."

_'That's not what I wanted to say...'_

We smile at each other, staring deep into each other's eyes.

Ahhh. not good at all.

My arm tightens around her waist as I move my hand to tuck a hair behind her ear.

'_I want to bully her more~'_

I think I'm getting addicted.

_'Why must I be like this?'_

"Ahm... Am I interrupting something…?"

My smile drops. Killjoy. Thank you.

I reluctantly release Rin and face the offender with a slight glare.

It seems the gal we were waiting for has arrived. She flinches a bit at my glare and looks rather awkward.

'_Well... I don't really blame her.'_

I lower the glare to her visible relief. I'm sorry.

"You were but that doesn't matter." It totally does. "Today we have come to meet with your boss. We would like to talk with Fujimura Raiga."

The "Yakuza house receptionist" looks taken back, then gathers her courage to glare at me.

"Listen here boyo, you can-"

"Tell him it will be the same as ten years ago." I interrupt. "He'll know what it means."

She stops. Maybe at the cryptic words or the utmost seriousness in my voice, but she stopped.

My mind was clear. My voice was clear. My purpose was clear.

"... I'll give him a call." She reaches to the telephone in her booth.

Pulling Rin into my arms absentmindedly, I rest my chin on her head.

'_It's a start.'_

Looking down into my contractors hair I sigh. She's not reacting, I teased her to much before.

'_Why's it always all or nothing with me…'_

"I'm sorry." I started. Placing my lips on her scalp, I began to talk to her. Both physically and mentally.

"_You're my dumb but pretty Princess that I adore, I treasure you, never doubt that._" I let my words vibrate into her head. "_So as someone who cares for your well being above all… **I beg you**._" She twitches in my arms. "_Put away with that Magus arrogance for a while? Please?_"

My arms tighten around her as I began to rock her back and forth in gentle swaying. I close my eyes, pressing down into her hair further.

"_I'm not telling you to do away with pride or honour_." She's at the perfect height, "_I **am**I knight when all is said and done,_" her head is at my chest, eye level with my collar bone. "_But **arrogance **will get you killed._" She fits perfectly in my arms, like a bird coming home to nest.

I wonder what expression she's making. I wonder what expression _I'm_ making.

"_You would get killed…_" I breath in her scent and speak. "_**That will not stand.**_" My tone is iron. "_**That is not allowed.**_" My arms are iron. "_**I will not permit it.**_" My will is steel. "_So_ _please?_" But I am weak.

A beat passes. Then two. There is no answer. My heart was about sink. I grit my teeth. My eyes darken. _Would I have to use drastic measures?_

But then she answers.

Not verbally, or even mentally. But it was enough, nay it was more than enough.

She nestles into me, pushing her head into my clothes, feeling our warmth combine. Her thin, twiggy arms snake under mine, settling around my back.

I stiffen. Hardly believing it. But it was real.

I held her in a vice like grip, not tight, but unmoving. She held me in a delicate hug, unsure and uncertain. I could feel her emotions through our bond.

They were turbulent. At putting down her arrogance, hugging me back or something else… **I did not care**.

I do not hug her tighter, I do not sway with her more, but it feels different.

My smile widens as I kiss the top of her head.

"_**Thank you Princess.**_"

I weight is lifted from my shoulders. This time I do tighten my hug, this time I do sway more, even spinning around with her.

I am happy. I am content.

Of course it had to be interrupted.

"Oyabun has agreed to see you." This time I don't glare, she's only doing her job, but I do sigh.

Once more releasing Rin, this time with even more reluctance, I face the sorta-receptionist lady.

She was looking at us with a rather subtle expression.

"Just head on through, someone will guide you the rest of the way.

I nod at her and hold Rin at arms length.

She had a rather dazed look on her face, and her hair was slightly mussed up from the hug.

I guess she was getting comfortable too.

"Just… for things like this follow my lead, okay?" I meant to look at her confidently, but in the end it was slightly pleadingly. I was scared her agreement earlier was just a spur of the moment.

However my worry was unneeded. She didn't talk, but she did nod.

I'm slightly worried at her lack of chatter, this disposition was vastly different from when we first met, but it can wait.

'_My victory is your victory, I will yield all glory and spoil to you._' I remind her of what I promised when we first met.

She opened her to talk mouth but nothing came out. My heart skipped a beat, but then settles. It was just her throat had gotten dry. She nodded more firmly instead.

Slightly disappointed at not hearing her talk, but glad she was getting out whatever funk she was in, I smile widely, eyes closing as I did.

Had they not closed, I may have noticed the conflicted look in her eyes.

'_But then again maybe not. I'm rather dense when it matters.'_

.

* * *

.

AN: That was hard but I just couldn't stop.

The characters were sorta writing themselves at times, and completely fighting my every move at others, but I hope you like the result.

I hope you like the development, or at least is impartial to it. if you find it weird, don't worry so do I.

But give it a chance. I think I might be onto something.

Do tell me what you think, I always enjoy reading reviews, be they short or long.

Thank you for the support and I'll see ya next time.


	6. Chapter 6: Sword and Shield

.

The one known as Artus has forgotten himself. He's remembering, but it is a slow affair.

_He has forgotten._

_He has forgotten what he's forgotten.  
_

However, just because he himself has forgotten, does not mean the rest of the world has.

_He is remembered._

Beasts fear him.

Gaia curses and adores him.

Alaya observed him.

Monsters dread him.

The Throne holds him.

Legend upholds him.

History remembers him.

Fae are one with him.

…?

_So then, where are the Fae?_

Where are his friends?

Where are his sworn allies?

Where were they in his time of need?

_**We await in thy shield friend.**_

.

* * *

.

I woke.

The disorientation I experienced upon waking yesterday was still there, but far less.

I was acclimatising.

I look outside to see it was still night, the sun was a way away from rising.

That was normal. I usually only slept a few hours anyway. Yesterday was an exception.

I didn't feel it a first, but being summoned was a bit of a shock to the system.

Waking up to the light of dawn was a rare luxury.

But back to the dream...

'_My shield huh?'_

I sense it. I didn't before, but I do now. Like a mist had risen? Or perhaps a light was shone? Yes.

Indeed the mist remains, but now I have light.

With my sword, it lays waiting. It does not exist, yet I feel it's just within reach. I can smell it. I can touch it.

So I do.

I feel grass. I smell earth.

A "shield" appears before me, a shield like no other. You would not find a shield like this in tapestry, only hear in tale. Mine was unique.

Rather than a "shield", you might say it's a small hill condensed. A chunk of Gaia's Reality Marble hewn in into general shape.

There was grass, rocks, soil, earth, metal, wood, flowers and ferns, but standing out above all, there were _jewels_.

I marvel at its presence. It's very existence is weighty, yet ethereal.

I created it, yet I still feel my heart palpitating in it's aura.

Primal and rustic, yet one could never call it crude.

It was my one and only Shield.

[**The ****Bejewelled**** House of Fae**] _A homely hill. A token of friendship._

'_My shield...'_

From the centre point, a fist-sized red jewel embedded in rounded stone, a single light emerges.

A reddish-purple glowing ball about the size of of my thumb-nail.

I know it. I know it very well.

I couldn't help the watery smile. My eyes involuntarily water.

"Heya Radish..." I whisper.

_Warmth._ She conveys, then… _You're late._

.

* * *

.

[**Rune-Span**] _Cry of the Futhark. Fang of Artus._

That is my blade's name.

I can't believe I forgot it. I made it myself along with [Bejewelled House], it had been my partner for decades. Summoning is no excuse.

_I am ashamed._

My Sword and Shield, to think I would forget…

_I am truly ashamed._

Amnesia is no excuse… well it sorta is, but that's not the point.

_Ugh._

The point is I am really, fucking ashamed.

"I'm sowwyyy~" The only way to make it up is through unrelenting affection. "Yoo da best blade a man could ask for Span-span," I switch to the other one, "and yoo da best shield a guy could eva have Fae-fae!"

_*Kiss-kiss-kiss* *rub-rub-rub*_

I was alternating between rubbing my cheek up and down the blade of [Rune-Span] and cuddling with the body of [Bejewelled House] while sporadically lathering the two kisses to show my apologies.

It was in that state that Rin eventually found me. Myself making out with my sword whilst humping my shield in her basement, Radish was repeatedly ramming herself into a wall.

She damn near used a Command Seal to make me stop.

Radish took an instant liking to her.

'_Disloyal bug.'_

.

* * *

.

My armaments are not true Noble Phantasms. They're damn near, but for whatever reason they have not been "elevated" to the status of NP.

What's the best way to explain it I wonder?

Well, let's look at Saber. Saber as in Arturia Pendragon, "Blue Saber", King of Knights, Once and Future King and one of the three main heroines of Fate/stay night.

Her NP's: [Avalon], [Excalibur] and [Invisible Air].

For now, we shall focus on Avalon.

Full title: [**Avalon**] _The Everdistant Utopia._

You generally have the name followed by it's description/explanation/epithet/title.

It's EX rank if I remember correctly, a bullshit powerful Fae Artefact gifted to the good King Arthur.

It's OP as fuck. No wonder it became a NP right?

"Then what about her armour?"

_Armour?_ You might ask. _What armour?_

The armour gifted to her, crafted by Merlin, the armour she wore for the majority of her later life, the hunk of metal that protected her, served her and became the object of admiration, envy, hate and adulation to the masses.

That armour.

Why isn't it a Noble Phantasm?

Mostly because it doesn't have a name other than "King Arthur's Armour", but even then that is more than enough to warrant "Phantasm status."

But it is not.

Because [Avalon], [Excalibur] and [Invisible Air] has taken up all the space. Or perhaps taken up all the weight?

That armour was special, my memory is still rather faint, but Merlin put a hella lot effort into it. I remember that it had numerous magical effects and skills embedded into it, yet none of that is shown.

Rather those effects were eliminated, got rid off… Put simply, it got nerfed.

It is an armament fully capable of becoming an NP but did not due to all the space getting taken up.

The circumstances are different, but my Sword and Shield are in much the same situation.

They are "incomplete?" I think.

The names [**The ****Bejewelled**** House of Fae**] and [**Rune-Span**] are more like the "second name." Not the "True Name."

They are the "_The Everdistant Utopia." _to their [**Avalon**].

It should really be: [**True Name**] _The Bejewelled House of Fae. _And: [**True Name**] _Rune-span, Fang of Artus, _or something.

It's a bit confusing, but that's the best way I can explain it.

I am pretty sure there is a reason for this, something that I myself did, but I can't yet recall it.

It's not like my Armaments are weak or anything, they are my pride and joy, but it's just they have not received the typical boost from being a Servant's main weapons. They are like King Arthur's armour; part of the Servant but not a NP.

I'm sure in time I will come to remember their True Names (or maybe not) but in the meantime, this will do.

Or rather, this will _have _to do.

Time is slipping away, the day of conflict approaches.

"Well then, I've looked over your books to see how the spell has changed over the years and I'm mildly impressed."

_Thus I will make do._

"But there are quite a bit of things that have been forgotten since when I was taught it, so listen up."

Sitting before me was my _Contractor_, not my _Princess_.

"Right now I'm not your Servant, I'm your teacher. I expect compliance, this has little chance of going wrong but I will take no chances."

_That said..._

"Flowing and Transferring of Power, Age of Fae edition…"

_I'm certainly not against stacking the odds in my favour either._

"I.e. Jewel Magecraft. Let's begin."

_My Princess will be strong._

.

* * *

.

"An Origin of **Youth**… unexpected." My mouth is a bit cottony and throat a bit dry, so I try not to talk too much.

"We rarely do anticipate our true natures."

"True."

I listen to the sound of my (sorta) mentor bustle about, cleaning up the mess we made to divine my attributes.

I lay there on the floor shirtless as he worked, body and circuits still numb from the ritual. The residue heat of the runic circle painted on my back was still making me sweat a bit.

"What about my Alignment then?"

"Hmm? Well…" his voice grew impish, "most would have need to perform yet another ritual another time to confirm, but for a Wizard as great as I- Merlin!- such effort is unneeded!"

Eesh, flamboyant as always.

"Hmmm."

"Ugh! Such a tone from mine own student! Woe be me, the shunted teacher!"

"..." Drama queen. My voice is still shot is all.

"... _The silent treatment is perhaps even more disheartening_…" Merlin sulked then shook his head, shaggy white mane flopping around. "Student mine, thy have dual alignments I believe."

My ears perk up.

"Yes, a quite rare combination at that, as thy should know; Origins and Alignment tend to effect or represent a Magus to some effect, but I'm not really sure what thine might imply about ye…" a bout of silence, "one is of the five great elements, the other an irregular."

"..."

Another bout of silence, I can practically hear the cogs turn for a bit, before he came back to topic with another shake of his mane.

"First alignment, one of the five great elements: **Ether**. An element that did not even exist prior to the current age. Fairly rare. Magical Energy at its most raw form." He listed off.

Once more I was surprised, another unexpected outcome. I was honestly expecting Earth or Fire. Did my bugs have any effect in this?

"Second element, irregular: **Storage**." I twist round to look at the half-breed in confusion. "Yes. Best I can tell thy possess an affinity with 'storing'. To store, to keep, to hide... That is the feel I got."

'_Well… I have always been a bit of a pack-rat, and in Skyrim I would take literally everything I could take with me. Even the pots and pans.'_

"Prior to this, I was a tad troubled on what thy main magical focus might be, but with this new knowledge there's a practically perfect art for thee to invest in."

Body no longer numb, I sit up and turn to him.

"Have thee ever heard of _Jewelcraft _perchance?"

'_... Yes actually.'_

.

* * *

.

AN: Shorter than usual plus not much happened. Geh.

Sorry, but back at college now. Length and release times will deviate.

Not my best, but I hope it's not too bad.


	7. Chapter 7: I am not a Seiba-face

"According to some sources, you are actually a woman."

"...what?"

"Yes."

This conversation happened the day after I was summoned, before my first day at school, the arranged meeting with the local crime lord and Rin's introduction to medieval Jewelcraft.

"I assure you, despite my class classification and apparent ties to the 'original', I am not in fact a seiba-face."

"… what?"

"Yes."

She glared at me slightly, still unused to my antics but went back to the book she was skimming without further comment.

Although I myself had forgotten exactly how I became a Heroic Spirit (although it's coming back steadily), it's not like _records _of my legend had been stricken from the world along with my recollections.

As such, after I had told Rin my name, she and I hit the books to find out more… or not really. Surprisingly(?) Rin knew who I was immediately. As it would turn out, I am rather famous.

"You, alongside Gawain, Knight of the Sun, and Lancelot, Knight of the Lake, are the three most famous Knights of the Round Table." Flipping through a book for relevant information, Rin listed of what she knew of the top of her head.

"... What about Tristan, Mordred and Bedivere?" Surely they are more famous?

"Hmm, they are famous too, but not to the extent of you three. When one thinks of the Round Table they think of King Arthur, Merlin and you three first." She put down one book and swiftly replaced it with another. "Others like the Knight of Treachery, the Knight of Lamentation and those who embarked on the quest for the Holy Grail such as Galahad after."

'_That is... surprising?' _I tilt my head.

Is it though? I am special, in many ways, I would expect to be known, or rather I would be ashamed had I not been known… perhaps this is just to be expected.

"Oh." Was the appropriate response I supplied.

There was three piles of books on the table in the quiet corner of the library, one rapidly dwindling and two growing at varied speeds.

Pile one was that of unread books, Rin was impressive quick at processing information, without aid of any form of magic at that. She is just well practised.

Pile two and three were those she had read, two being the useless ones, and three being ones worthy of further interest. They were mostly historical texts and deeper lore rather than story books or embellished legends.

'_I have a clever little Princess on my hands…' _I blink. '_That's a first.'_

In my experience the Princess is usually slow as a rock in anything but fighting and food.

'_Dumb but cute and easy to bully.'_

Ku ku ku.

"... I feel insulted for some reason." Rin had stopped reading for the moment and stared at me intently.

"What travesty! Who would ever dare to insult my most glorious Princess? I shall challenge them to a glorious duel to the death in the glorious time honoured tradition of stabbing one another to death with glorious pointy sticks… gloriously." I gave her a most glorious smile.

"..." Rin started a moment longer, then turned back to her book without another word.

'_She's learning. How glorious'_

By Morgana's giant tits, I've missed the internet.

I let loose a chuckle, the only other sound that filled the space other than the flipping of pages. It was nice here, I mused. Far more elegant than one might expect from a public library.

It was late afternoon on a weekday, we were situated in a secluded corner of an already hushed library and my muffled chuckle mixed well with the ambience of the place.

The easy sound that came up from my chest and out from the back of my throat amplified the already serene atmosphere with a sense of safety and security.

Our privacy ensured by two walls of high bookshelves on the back and front, with a section of the wall dominated by a large stained glass window to the right. The widow was misted by design and tinted a very slight yellow, turning an already orange glow of the late afternoon sun a truly dozy colour.

The stray dust motes in the dim lighting, smell of books and comfy chairs truly cultivated an elegant feel. But when combined with my chuckle the character of the place became even more agreeable.

Rin stopped flicking pages so hastily, and read at a tad more sedate pace, I also noted her slightly furrowed brow soften significantly.

A subtle application of my Charisma Skill put to good effect I would say.

Silently, I padded over the plush carpet to my contractor. "No need to rush." My voice was as soft as our surroundings, as was my smirk-that-really-wanted-to-be-a-smile.

"No need to fear you know?" To her surprise I reached up to scratch her scalp comfortingly. "No need to fret."

But it was only slight surprise, in fact she was more surprised at her own lack of response than surprise at the action itself. "For I am here and I'm not going anywhere soon."

'_... Wow. Even a life(and death) away I still managed to have Boku no Hero flashbacks…" _

I took a seat by her side, in front of pile three and picked out a book. "Let's just take thing at our own pace okay?"

For all her strong front and abrasive words, she _is _in the end just a girl. A girl in a bit over her head. And now she's my Princess, it is only natural I should help her in all endeavours.

She stared at me a moment with slightly widened eyes, before turning back to her book with an adorable little snort, not a word of recognition but not a word of denial either.

But I did not mind.

She sat more comfortably, the stiffness in her shoulders all but eliminated. Gone were the undertones of hurry in her actions and the edge in her eyes largely sheathed. I could feel our bond had subtly strengthened, the flow of mana just slightly more steady.

She was truly coming into her role as a combatant, no longer feeling so wound up, no longer so brittle. She was slowly becoming someone worthy of being my Princess.

'_Good.'_

With nothing else to be said, we both got down to reading in easy silence. This was the most relaxed we had been since summoning… I'd count that as a victory.

'_The 'war' hasn't even started and I'm already winning.'_

.

* * *

.

Before me stood Mordred.

It'd been some time since we last met… If you can call _that _a "meeting".

But times have certainly changed. Has it truly been a mere two years? Ah, I do not feel that time flies as they say, but it certainly has a way of sweeping you of your feet.

Or perhaps that's the dimensional displacement talking?

'_Who knows.'_

But I do know one thing; two years ago myself being in the place and position as I am now would have beggar belief.

It is almost surreal. But then again, I've grown pretty used to "surreal" by now.

Even as I crane my neck up to look at that blue. Blue sky… I can't help but finding it one of the most beautiful colours I'd ever seen.

I was unsure if my newfound appreciation of nature was a side effect from my bugs, something to do with acclimatising to the different time periods, or I simply didn't notice it before, needless to say; the world was starkly more beautiful than the one I grew up in.

And although I have had time to grow used to it, that beauty is, and will continue to be, a surreal sight for me a while longer.

A unified roar distracts me from my musings.

'_But that's enough running from reality for now.'_

Before me stands Mordred… as stated before.

The vast sky was blue as always and only smudged by a scant few wisps of cloud. It was bright and sunny but not hot, owing to a pleasant breeze drifting down from the North.

Our location was a grassy field, wooden viewing platforms boxed us in a fairly large square, triangular flags of all colours hoisted over the tiered benches at equal intervals.

They were packed (the seats that is) with people of fanciful attire. Dressed in colours and adorned with the occasional jewellery piece. I spotted a few especially colourful looking people with a sword at their hip, usually accompanied by a few burly looking men.

Some ways off to the right, over the spectator stands, one could spot stone grey walls standing proud and strong, basking under the sun. There was the occasional glint of light hitting metal from those patrolling the walls.

It was a bonafide medieval fair.

'_Hwaaa...'_

Though right now it seems more like a gladiatorial arena.

The crowds were roaring, at what I do not know, we'd been standing here for almost five minutes and nothing's started, but they were suddenly hollering for _something _anyway.

Soon enough the shouty guy (herald?) shouted the arrival, and reason, for the abrupt cheer. Along the tooting of horns and the further rising of cheer, he shouted out over it all.

'_Rather impressive actually.'_

"**Announcing the arrival of His Royal Highness the King! All hearken the King of Britons Arthur Pendragon!**"

This time the roar was almost deafening. From the those on stands, and those outside, all called out in unison. One could _feel _the sheer intensity of their fervour vibrate through the air on their skin.

'_... I guess he's (she's) still pretty popular at this time.'_

.

* * *

.

"So what's this I hear about me being female then?"

"... Hmm? Oh. That."

As I absently flicked through my autobiography depicted by means of legend and lore, I struck up conversation. The topic had been bugging me since Rin brought it up as we arrived.

"Well, I said that but it was only one of many tales that surround you… You are _abnormally _well documented you know that?" She looks at me. "Yet the majority of all those sources are half conflicting, half stupid, and half slander yet all are well written and have multiple origins to back them up!" She exclaims quietly.

"That's to many halves." I am promptly ignored.

"The main source of conflict and slander comes from the Church."

'_Ugh.'_ I involuntarily make a face.

"... And it would seem the dislike is mutual." She notes.

"An understatement." Calling it a mere _understatement _is an understatement.

'_The church huh…'_

"They were corrupt." To put it lightly. "At the time the church, a "_religious"_ and "_pure"_ organisation… was a joke. A complete and utter farce. ONly concerned with power and money."

Just thinking about those little shits make me itchy.

"Did you know they owned the majority of all brothels? Prostitution was not a job condoned by the church, yet prostitutes were in fact... _property, _"I hiss the word out, "of the church. Despite their apparent _purity_," I spit the word out, "our dear and _holy _father priests were regular patrons… They did not treat the women well."

That was how my first (albeit short and one-sided) conflict with the church started. In londinium, a girl barely into her teens came to me beaten and bruised, begging to anyone, desperate for aid. Not for herself, but for her sisters.

Upon following her (being half dragged by her) imagine my surprise when I witnessed a man of the cloth treat a girl no older than fifteen like an animal.

Than same man I passed preaching in the streets. The same man who collected donations. The same man who spat at me for being a "beastly mongrel."

I napped his neck and buried him in the woods with no one the wiser, or if Arthur did find out, s/he didn't say anything.

"There was talk of making Morgana a saint." I state. "The same bitch who raped her half-sibling and plotted the downfall of a country was almost canonised." Makes my gums itch and fists twitch. "Not only that, but at the time such knowledge was hardly a secret among the higher echelon. The tales of her misdeeds were almost a public secret, take that into consideration."

This was after The Battle of Camlann mind you.

"Take that as an indication to just how corrupt and hypocritical the church could be…" I taste something rank in my mouth, I want to spit.

"That said… it's not as if they were _all _bad." I narrow my eyes. It was hard for me to say given how much hate was cultivated between us in life... but that was the truth. "The holy men and women stationed in Camelot were mostly alright, and the places I toured often were generally less corrupt…"

As much as I want to make those fuckers _universal _enemies, telling stories of how they were all monsters, rapists and beasts; making them even _easier _to hate... that was the truth.

'_Too few, too few.'_ I was still bitter however.

… Perhaps it was just me, but I seemed to bring out the worst in "holy men", I was one of the few unwilling to turn a blind eye to misdeeds, not matter where or whence they came from.

And I responded to those crimes most violently. I brought out the worst in them, and likewise they brought out the worst in me. I was downright vindictive, sometimes bordering cruel in my "punishments."

Our conflicts weren't so direct after Camlann, but I had... "_disappeared_" more priests than I would care to admit during the early days.

Well… In return, I'm pretty sure _at least_ half of the assassins I dealt with in my lifetime were zealots.

"Those old guys were sooo pissed when the stupid Holy Grail they blackmailed Arthur into getting turned out making him _more _popular…" He was actually meant to fail that. A failure on top of him "abandoning" his ruling duties was supposed to bring down his popularity with the common people.

A plot meant to push him/her (whatever) into a position were he has no choice to turn to the church or the nobles (the prime architects or the scheme) for aid. It was meant to bring him to heel, "humble him" as it were.

Arthur was already pretty unpopular with the nobles due to a consecutive chain of failed campaigns, born of the King prioritising the lives of the levy footmen (peasants) when he could, instead of glory and riches (for the nobles).

The church didn't like how independent and autonomous Arthur was getting with the aid of Merlin (foul sorcery) and I added in (beastly mongrel). They wanted more control… and donations.

'_And keep in mind, these are the crooked roots of those fucks who would go on to fund __**nine **__stupid as shit Crusades…'_

The problem was his towering popularity with the masses. Thus the _Plot of the Holy Grail._

Of course things backfired in their faces spectacularly, and the _Quest for the Holy Grail _made Arthur and his Knights stronger whilst further cementing his place in the heart of the people _and _history.

Epic fail from the church and nobles… Though the nobles got back by siding with Mordred (_complicated feelings noises_) at Camlann...

'_In any case.'_

"I don't like the church and the church doesn't like me. Let's leave it at that… but on what basis am I a women? I assume there is something to back it up yes?"

"... You were apparently the lovers of Sir Gareth and Sir Mordred," **-blink**, "who were both men," **-blink, blink**, "and you according to some sources, used you foul magic to seduce the two brave knights to your harloting ways…"

-**Blink, blink, blink.**

'_Bruh.'_

"What's with that weird expression?"

"... Nothing."

.

* * *

.

Mo-chan charged me, her nameless sword trailing at her side, muscles taut and ready to swing steel with her charging momentum.

'Twould be a heavy strike I suspect.

Which is why I'm not going to let it hit me obviously.

_**Uruz**__. __**Raidho**__._

Leaning my body back, I let my magic move me, seemingly drifting around Mordred's swing like a feather. As Mo-chan's swing completed its trajectory, slashing from right to left only to hit air, I sprung from me knees to her right side, away from the blade.

Mo-chan quickly pivoted on her heels to face me, sword tip steady at chest height, gripped readily in both hands with her stance pointed to me.

_Chudan no Kamae_ in Kendo terms.

Her righting from the missed swing was quick, and despite the overly large helm, I could feel her gaze on me the entire time. She had not lost sight of my movements for even a second.

'_Impressive.'_

It is ridiculously easy to lose sight of someone when looking through those thin helmet slits.

I wobbled slightly from the high speed movement, the ferocity Mordred had charged at me with caught me slightly off guard.

_**Ingwaz.**_

I felt my circuits cool slightly as the power of the rune reset my muscles. A relaxed strength seemed to pulse up my legs from the earth. I was steady again.

'_Feh… not used to this duel style format…'_

But here I am. No time to complain.

'_So then.'_ I fight off a grimace. '_What to do know huh?'_

.

* * *

.

"Are you remembering anything then?" Rin asked me.

"Yes, this was very helpful actually. Although I still need to sort through them all and I will have quite the headache later, the memories _are _coming." Slowly but surely. "I'm not sure why I even have amnesia in the first place though…"

'_Though I think it was by my own design strangely enough.'_

Just **being **here fills me with an intense sense of smugness. I occasionally have the urge to say **the line**.

The urge to steal a helicopter, snatch some black book, and smirk evilly to myself...

_Come to the dark side, we have Light._

"Hmm. Well at least that's good I suppose." Ever so haughty my dear Princess. You make me want to **make you cry**-

'_Eh?'_

"Where'd you get that pepper spray?"

"I feel endangered."

"... No but seriously, you don't have any pockets big enough for that can. Where'd you pull it out from?" Don't tell me she has hammerspace too?!

"A woman should never kiss and tell."

"What woman?" '_Kiss what?'_

"..."

'_-Ah, I got my thoughts and speech mixed up… also, I'm a being made purely of prana Rin, pepper spray means nothing to me… You should stop lest the librarian will shout at you.'_

.

* * *

.

There were no taunts, no greetings, no acknowledgements, no false courtesy… our previous "meeting" was not recognised. I'm not even sure if she would even remember such a minor incident.

Mordred, at the sound of the starting trumpet, only charged me with explosive speed.

It was actually somewhat disappointing. I was hoping to banter with her a bit. Throw her off her game, distract her with memories, or at least enrage her somewhat. When facing human opponents I tend to take all the advantages I can get.

Or rather; all the advantages I can **make**.

As such, this not ideal.

After the failed first swing, she has gone quite. She only stood there patiently, stance firm, her gaze heavy on my person, her presence only magnified by her armour.

Another thing Is I can't see her muscles, I can't see the subtle tense or relax to predict her movement. I skill I had honed over the years when fighting beasts and monsters.

I am dissatisfied. Mordred is meant to be more of a musclehead.

_**Ingwaz**_. _**Ingwaz**_. _**Ingwaz**_.

'_Calm. Composed. Collected.'_

"_Phewwww._" I breathed out a long breath.

I couldn't make an advantage to exploit pre-fight, so I'll just have to do it now.

"_**Ingwaz**_." I whispered my first verbal rune of the fight.

The power that surged up from the ground wrapped around my legs. Not in a threatening or discomforting way, but it was incredibly steadying. It as like from my waist down was encased in earth, not to stifle or stall, but to support.

I was rooted, yet mobile. Empowered yet at ease.

'_That's enough pussy-footing.'_

I started to walk.

.

* * *

.

"Sir Artus, Knight of the Round Table. As I said, you were almost absurdly well documented. You had the most names and epithets than any other amongst your comrades." Down to business then.

This is a good chance to see how my new Princess acts under trying circumstances. Currently she is placed in a situation she has rarely ever felt; a state of helplessness. A state where she has no other choice but to rely on another.

She cannot fight a Servant, yet she is at war with six others, yet she can not back out, this was something she chose herself. No longer is it a matter of pride but survival. She _must _rely on me.

I think after that short demonstration of power I showed her whilst we were in a secluded part of the park earlier is starting to sink in.

She may not consciously realise it, but the truth of the matter is showing itself on her body. The minute trembling, stiffness and general edge she carried herself with.

Though I have mostly dispelled the excess nervousness, a healthy amount of caution is a must.

Now, with her livelihood endangered, she immediately sought to do what she could. No longer complaining or worrying about my amnesia, but rather moving to solve it as best she could.

It was rather praiseworthy, but this is just the start.

"There are few reasons for this but chiefly; you lived the longest."

A twinge of loneliness passes through me.

"Artus the Dreamer. Artus the Youthful. Artus the Invincible. Artus the Beast-slayer. Artus the Patron of Arts. Artus the Lord of all Swamps. Artus the Wandering Giant. Artus the Helping Giant. Artus the Kind…" A few names I heard in life, though the majority are ones I'm hearing for the first time.

'_But I must say I'm most proud of that last one.'_

"Sir Giant-kin." Now **that's **familiar. "The Friendly one of Lights." That one isn't.

"The Barefoot Knight." I know that one. That's from a memory I haven't yet sorted.

"The Changeling Knight." Knew _that _would be there.

"Knight of Children." … I wouldn't have minded being called that more often.

"Knight of the Poor." Or that.

"Knight of many Jewels." I'd honestly rather not be known for opulence or extravagance, but I see where that's coming from.

"You were the knight of so much, that it became a point of satire. One of the most enduring points that uplift your legend is the nursery-rhyme said to be centred around you," I'm a nursery-rhyme? "_The Knight of This-and-That._"

"_The Knight of This-and-That_ is still sung to this day. Said to originate from sometime in the late 1700's. Said to be authored by a group of historians studying Arthurian tapestries and documents in their free time." Huh. "It somehow lasted 'till the modern day."

It feels a bit, nay, _really _weird to know you are being sung about by children across the world… Weird, but good.

"However these were all minor titles as compared to your _Big Three_, as it were." Oooh, now that sounds proper cool and anime-like. "The Knight of Fae, the Last Knight and the King-Maker."

… Those first two names evoke complicated and conflicting feelings within me, but I don't recall that last one.

"King-Maker?" I ask.

"Probably given posthumously, but just as important as your other two." Really now? "It is a title not only important to you, but also to the entire Arthurian legend." Really, really now?

"It was due to the documentations of _Artus the King-Maker_ that King Arthur and his Knights were cemented as fact not fiction. It was your existence that confirmed King Arthur as a _legend _not a _myth_." She lectured.

'_Oh…'_

"... But what's the basis of King-Maker in the first place? Surely that would be Merlin no?" I didn't crown Arthur or anything.

"Mainly due you rearing the three kings that came after Arthur."

'_**!**__... oh yeah.'_

"King Kamlann the Bright, King Gaman the Strong and King Artain the Good.

'_... __**Oh yeah**_…'

"Yeah… I remember them now." Happiness, wistfulness, pride and a little sadness… _I remember them._

Emotions run rampant in my heart. The intensity of a lifetime coming to bare.

Rin continued on regardless of my internal turbulence.

"Although not much is known of your actions at the Battle of Camlann," _a_ _twitch_, "it was fairly certain you did not fight for Mordred." _Another twitch._ "And It is documented you saved Arthur's life a multitude of times... It was said your presence at Arthur's side cemented his rule."

'_Now that's exaggerating a bit.'_

"The Kings Kamlann, Gaman and Artain were all raised by yourself during your twilight years, they went on to rule Britain for about half a century. There are some tales that had you sided with Mordred he would have been king unquestionably, and with you raising the next three Kings, the title King-Maker was a given." She finished.

I close my eyes, letting the faint memories poring in accumulate.

"I see." Was all I could say at the moment.

"... You are somewhat similar to Sir Ector in that sense, but far greater..." Hmmm.

'_Don't let Kay here that.'_

"After all, you were also called the _Crownless King of Britain_. The Last Knight of Arthur who ruled justly in his stead. Bringing the country prosperity and protection as you raised the next generation of Rulers."

'_...'_

I grimace.

'… _That's one name I didn't want remembering.'_

.

* * *

.

I walked sedately. Circling Mordred calmly, there was only a short distance between us.

There are benefits to duels like this I suppose. One is I don't have to spare attention for interruption, and although I also use my surroundings for cover, due to my size it's not always effective. Open grounds like this is not necessarily bad for me.

_Step. Step. Step._

With each step I gradually tuned out the crowd; their murmuring, their stares their smell, all were white, all were black, all were unimportant.

_Step. Step. Step._

The sun the sky the wind the earth and my opponent. That was all that mattered. The bugs around me dulled, not out of weakening, but as they cut off wasted power like light.

_Step. Step. Step._

With each step Mordred calmly shifted to face me squarely, still unmoving but with mounting intensity. My Fae-tuned senses could feel the air around her shimmer and tremble as she waited.

_Step. __**Step**__._

I stopped.

'_Rune. Set. __**Ingwaz**__.'_

Two brown and one green coloured bugs sunk into the ground under my foot.

I stared at my opponent. She had not moved from her spot other than to swivel to face me.

It would seem I wouldn't be drawing her out then.

Three bugs, yellow in colourage, floated up above my head.

I calmed my breath once more. My body relaxed and leaned forward minutely. I saw Mordred tense. The air around her stilling.

"_**Sowilo!**_"

Then I moved.

As I exploded forward, matching Mordred's primary charge in speed, my bugs _lit up _with the Rune, empowered and empowering the light of the sun.

The intense glare shone from behind me, just as I had planned. Just as I had positioned myself.

'_**Make**_ _an advantage.'_

Mordred, who I had baited into tensing when I leaned forward, was caught off guard with the unexpected distraction.

When you focus too much on one thing, one may become tunnel visioned and caught blindsided.

'_No pun intended.'_

The shine of her armour and glint of her steel worked against her.

My eyes, also empowered by the rune and my bugs, were immune to the glare of light, thus was acutely able to see my opponent flinch minutely and raise her guard just a tad to shield her vision.

-An opening.

My step was heavy and planted, thick thighs like tree trunks bulge. My arm stretched back, wooden weapon poised to strike.

-Except I was still some ways of my opponent.

-Except I did not strike.

I threw it.

-The Fae enchanted cudgel, covered in runes and taller than my opponent herself sailed through the air, spinning as it went, runes creating a gale as whirled.

-I broke apart the earth as I charged. Soil and grass thrown up and back as my leg mightily pushed me forward, my person chasing after the weapon.

I could feel my bare feet glide across earth, heel connect to the earth, sole stamp on the earth, toes grip the earth, and then once more bound away.

Mordred reacted magnificently. Despite her impaired vision she was able to accurately make out the flying shadow hurtling towards her, striking it away deftly with an abrupt jerk of her sword.

The movement was short and sift, minimal in wastage, stance soon to corrected-

-But that was enough.

I tumbled. Forcing my body into a tight somersault. Momentum still carrying my airborne body forward.

-Hand planted into the earth, only partly supporting my weight.

-Momentum continued to carry me forward.

-My legs bent. My arm bent.

-My feet mere inches from Mordred's chestpiece. My head mere inches from the ground.

-I braced.

With my chest to the sky, back to the earth. With my feet positioned at Mordred chest, knees bent With my arm behind me, supporting me, elbow bent. With my body ever drifting through the air, trajectory set, muscles taut.

There was only one thing to do.

-Arm pushed.

-Legs kicked

All the while my body weight carrying on through.

-Mordred went flying.

With a victorious shout my legs connected- and then she was gone. Concentric circles in the air replacing her, the impact was that of meteor on dragon, not flesh hitting armour.

Wind rushed to fill the vacuum with a "_fwump_" as I finished the flip. Easily landing on my feet in a crouch. I was not one to let up.

I once more kicked the earth, rushing forth. My thrown cudgel returning to my hand at a simple flex of magic.

Mordred impacted the earth with a scrape. A great cloud of dirt was up heaved.

'_Rune. Set._ _**Algiz**__.' _My muscles were reinforced, a rune _set _and ready in waiting.

The dust cleared, Mordred landing was revealed.

-I smile.

She stood steadily on both feet, straight backed and poised, sword once more held at chest height. My keen eyes only picked up the faintest of dents on her chestpiece.

'_Good.'_

I zigzagged my approach, a dizzying blur in the eyes of onlookers.

-The fight was on.

.

* * *

.

"Now then, the Knight of the Fae epithet is rather obvious. You were said to be blessed and beloved by the Fae… Which I see you are." Rin said pointedly looking at the lump of light now a common sight on my shoulder.

Radish had taken to settling on my shoulder whenever possible, nestling under my collar or down my shirt when that was unavailable.

'_Much as she did in life...'_

I've show Rin my other bugs, or part of the swarm anyway, but I only allow them out en masse when at home. Despite their age, they are just as excitable as before, not something you really want out in public, Radish being the exception, not the rule.

The few other "mature" bugs tend to stay in the shield most of the time, doing whatever they did with the more "childlike" of their lot.

"The Knight of the Fae title was most prominent when describing your time under King Arthur. But post Battle of Camlann, you are generally referred to in another name." _Yeah…_ I close my eyes. "The Last-"

'_Not now.'_

"-Stop." I hold up my hand, interrupting Rin. I'm sure I making was a complicated right now.

"The memories will come, no need to spell _that _out for me."

"But it may come quicker like this." My contractor argues, as expected she is looking for every scrap of advantage she can get. Not minding silly things like feelings or sentimentality, but simply finding the most logical way to solve the problem that is my amnesia.

'_Good.'_

"... Perhaps." I can't argue with that. However… "It would be irrelevant anyway."

"What?" The confusion is understandable.

"The one called Last Knight… is not _me_."

She blinks at me. "You mean that was an... impostor? Someone stole your name?"

"Hmm? Oh no, no. I don't mean it like that…" How to put it? Ah, I know "Well, the "Last Knight" would be a Lancer."

"?" She tilts her head.

I summon Rune-Span. A gigantic blade taller than Rin and with a blade wider than her head at its base held easily in my hand. The dull grey and silvers of the sword did not allow any reflection, but allowed the countess tiny runes and mathematical circles that cover it's every inch to be showcased in all its splendour.

'_Well, this was just a paper-thin projection though. If I brought out the real one, it's mere presence and aura would attract too much attention.'_

"This is a projection of Rune-span." I stare at it as an emotion wells up in my eyes. "... It was broken at Camlann."

"Oh."

"Yes. This is the _Short Fang of Artus_, as it were." People do like to name things fangs. "After Camlann it was reforged into a spear; the _Long Fang of Artus_. The weapon of the **Last Knight**… not that of **I**." I explain.

"... Oh." I think she gets it. Smart girl.

"Umu. You could call me Young!Artus I suppose. There is an Old!Artus floating about the Throne too, the Last Knight... and King-Maker too I guess." Seeing as there are at least some rumours that I am a girl, there should be a female me floating around too…

'_Ugh.'_

We as Heroic Spirits are affected by belief and faith. Like Vlad III was tainted by the legend of Dracula…

'_I really don't want to see a female me acting like a slut though…'_

"However I am not them, I have the Short Fang. Who you see before you is the Giant-Kin, the Wandering Giant, the Beast-Slayer, the Barefoot Knight, the Changeling." My voice filled the air, soft but firm. "Rejoice… for you have summoned none other than the **Knight of Fae**." I proclaim peacefully, yet my words suffused with power.

I let the words hand for a moment, before bad habits act up.

Reaching for her hand I bring it to my lips and kiss her tenderly.

"The War is yours my Princess."

As I watch her blush, I note this one isn't really _that _bad of a habit.

.

* * *

.

* * *

.

**Runes used:**

**Uruz**: _A wild ox_. Physical strength and speed, untamed potential. A time of great energy and health. Freedom, energy, action, courage, strength, tenacity, understanding, wisdom

**Raidho**: _Wagon or chariot. _Travel, both in physical terms and those of lifestyle direction. A journey, vacation, relocation, evolution, change of place or setting.

**Ingwaz**: _Ing, the earth god._ Male fertility, gestation, internal growth. Common virtues, common sense, simple strengths, family love, caring, human warmth, the home. Rest stage, a time of relief, of no anxiety.

**Sowilo**: _The sun_. Success, goals achieved, honour. The life-force, health. A time when power will be available to you for positive changes in your life, victory, health, and success.

**Algiz**: _Elk, protection._ The protective urge to shelter oneself or others. Defence, warding off of evil, shield, guardian. Connection with the gods, awakening, higher life.

.

* * *

.

**AN:** Sup. Been a while huh? I'd been building this up gradually whenever I could, and finally it is ready. Sorry for the wait.

I went through quite a bit of panic after my last post. I realised I had been a bit too lax with my college work, _**very **_nearly missing a rather important deadline.

Fortunately I didn't but it was a scare. So I have taken it upon myself to be a bit more prudent with this coming project. That unfortunately means there will probably be less updates outside of holidays.

Pooey.

Eh. Ah well.

I'm not sure what to think about this chapter. It is the most "wordy" and dialogue heavy of The Changeling to date, so I am unsure.

In the first place writing dialogue scares me. I'm not the most social of people, as such it's not like I have an over abundance of experience in the matter.

I somehow pulled it off on the summoning scene but that took a hella lot of effort.

With this I am still unsure.

I could really use the feedback.

**Under Dim Lighting Ch: 4** is still a work in progress. I am really trying to keep its standard of quality up.

But regardless of which fiction, I will do what I can, when I can, as I can, doing my best to live up to expectations.

_Anyways..._

That little Idea of having Artus being a woman who seduced Mo-chan came from **thepowerfullkira **who actually suggested they might be called homosexual in legends, but I tweaked it.

I do hope you enjoyed.

Leave a review if it pleases.

_This chapter was 30 Word pages and about 6300 words_


	8. Chapter 8: Reaching out

.

* * *

It ended in my triumph, my duel against Mordred, but only barely.

It was not through skill, I was outclassed in that respect, not with courage, we were equally reckless, but only by stamina. The single aspect of myself I am confident will rival that of the Knights.

_Eventually._

Not that Mordred was a knight then. She was a four-year-old, or thereabouts. She had been born, altered and raised for war, but she was still a duckling, lacking in experience.

I bullied her with my superior size and endurance, making her move in full plate armour, attacking from atypical angles. Kicking was a favoured attack of mine, one she had little experience in defending against. Her slit helm may have protected her, but it also narrowed her vision far, far too much.

The fight lasted for hours, the crowd silenced buy our display, the "barbarian giant" showing far more skill and intelligence than they thought possible. I still acted like a brute, attacking wildly, but I was a slightly clever brute with magic.

I attacked because I had no other choice, I did not know how to defend y'see. All my fighting experience comes from hunting; you dodge, you weave then you let the killing blow fall from the shadows. You don't _block_.

So I attacked to hide my weakness. By the time Mordred realised I couldn't defend it was too late for her. She was exhausted, her anger and rage spent, only discipline kept her upright.

My cludgel had been broken, my armour in strips and multiple half-closed gashes, cuts and bruises adorned my torso and arms.

Mordred had dents all over her armour, but I had focused on the head. Her brain must be rattling, furthermore I can only imagine how hot and stuffy it is in there with her panting like a dog.

Even without a weapon, or rather, _because _I was without a weapon, I won. I had never been taught how to use a weapon but I had learnt karate and judo for the better half of a decade. My weapon was a distraction, a ruse, used to draw out my enemies into an unfavourable position.

Mordred's swing was far too sloppy as I charge that final charge. I batted it away with my forearm, then grabbed the approximation of her bicep and collarbone on her armour.

It was finished with a shoulder throw, she was heavy, but I had frequently lifted her off the ground with my kicks throughout the fight.

Mordred landed with a bang not a thud. She wheezed, limbs struggled slightly, then flopped down limply.

I let out a long breath and rolled my neck. The cracks and pops echoed.

I walked away not to applause or cheers, but wide-eyed stillness.

.

* * *

.

That fight was _meant _to commemorate Mordred's induction into the ranks of the Round Table Knights. That was the cause for all the flags, bells and whistles.

Though it was a mere formality to give the people a face to attach to the name- _or helm in this case_\- it was _meant _to be a marking day.

Thus, my win was a tad... inconvenient. Which somewhat explains the situation I find myself in.

Only somewhat mind you.

I can't help but think this be a tad over the top.

'_Also childish… and unimaginative… and petty… and boring…'_

Y'know it's not so much the fact that I am being insulted that irks me, but the fact the insult itself is so crappy. Is that weird?

'_I don't think so.'_

It's not weird.

In reality It's probably the fight's upset presenting a chance, and not the fight itself. I'm not exactly sure who or how many I've pissed off, but over the last two years, I'm fairly certain the toes I've stepped on reach triple digits.

'_Plus the church, but I doubt they would be quite **this **asinine.'_

Whoever it may be, whatever group or peoples that possess an agenda against me have decided to use this opportunity to take a poke -

Before me lay rags... and to my side some very nervous attendants.

I hold back a sigh with mighty will.

'_Let's try and deal with the second one first.'_

I smile at them awkwardly. "Worry not, I'm not angry. Not at this petty insults and certainly not at you- _thee _three." Ye-olde speak still trips me up. It would also seem my cloddish smile had the opposite effect intended.

My mighty will took an arrow to the knee. I tug on my beard a bit looking away with an internal sigh.

'_It's the teeth innit.'_

Laying the "rags" on the bedding, sitting before what was _meant _to be my formal-wear for the coming feast, I once more lamented the situation I find myself in.

'_Well then…'_

I turn to the attendants. Careful not to show them _too _much of my mouth and fangs.

"Care to see some magic?" That probably wasn't any better though.

.

* * *

.

"In the early hours of the morning, a train of theft has swept through many jewellery stores of eastern Fuyuki around Miyama town. Authorities are still investigating, but it is believed that the crimes were committed by only a single person…" The chattering of the reporter faded away as Rin turned down the volume.

_Something I'm sure took far longer to figure out than it should have._

She then looked to me, tinkering away at her dining table, then back to the silenced TV, going through some grainy surveillance footage, then back to me, thumbing my new prana storage devices, then back to the screen, now marking out which stores were hit on a map.

Eventually she once more turned back to me.

"Did you steal those?" She asked, pointedly looking at the equipment in my hands.

I looked down at the multitude of gems spread out before me, grouped by order of quality and type.

I look to her deadpan.

"Duh." What a silly question.

Rin takes a moment to comprehend… then goes back to eating.

Yet another peaceful morning here in the Tohsaka residence.

.

* * *

.

Fae Magic is _slow_. Slow to cast and slow to use but also slow to fade. Fae Magic, when cast properly, is also _OP as fuck. _No other way to put it.

It. Is. **Stronk**.

Unfortunately, my use of the art, for it is an _artform_, is limited. Limited greatly.

I took the rags to my lap, running fingers through the rough fabric, identifying the holes and frayed edges by touch. The three attendants who had unknowingly brought me the rags, were conflicted.

They had come with bundles in their arms, the cloth that hid the rags from view spread out on my bedding. Now they could only wring their hands in nervousness.

When they had unwrapped the cloth bundles to see flea-bitten scraps in place of elegant finery they had first gone pale as a sheet, then a subtle hue of green before settling into an unhealthy shade of milk.

I felt for them. I truly did.

But I'm not good with strangers. I can pull the gruff, blunt front fairly easily because I am, by nature, a quiet man most of the time, but it is also no trouble for me to speak my mind when needed.

Alas, should I attempt any further reassurances, it would most likely be taken the wrong way. People, especially servants, are cynical to a fault in this time and I'm not as well known here as I am around the backwater villages claimed as my turf.

To them I'm a descendant from flesh-eating Giants who beat the Knight Mordred with his bare hands... _Slightly _exaggerated.

Not only that, but I'm a _magic _giant-kin, something they are obviously very, eh, "aware" of by the way their eyes drift to the casually floating glowing bugs rather often.

'_Absolutely terrified would be another word...'_

Understandably; they are _just _a tad scared. The way they fiddle with their skirts, huddle closer together and shift on their feet make that obvious.

Yet they are also curious. I really don't like to say it like this, in fact it evokes forth nothing but disgust, but womenfolk are second-class to men here. They are kept in shady corners, sent away when deals are spoken and are largely kept unaware of the greater world outside.

Their lives, especially that of the lower caste, are structured by tradition enforced by an era sat upon a feudal system. Slit windows and barred doors is all many will ever see of the fields and meadows and freedom outside, ever out of their grasp.

Saying it a nice way (_hahaha_), it may be taken as being sheltered, taken another you might see they are no better than livestock. Reared and bred for a _purpose_.

'_It would overjoy me to claim that was exaggerated, but the… sheer **discrimination **I've born witness to…'_

I fought down the foreign yet somehow nostalgic bestial wrath thrumming in my chest. "Exposure" like myself is taken as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for these girls.

They were terrified, yet indeed so curious they couldn't help it.

Their bodies leaning forward, eyes open in anticipation confirm it. They all momentarily stilled with a look of wonder on their faces as I said it… before remembering they should be nervous and resumed protocol: squirm.

The look of _yearning _so deeply repressed damn near broke my heart. It would seem even here at "oh shining Camelot" the pudgy, greased fingers of "tradition" still holds grasp over so many.

I suppressed a flinch at watching the "housebroken" women before me. A whole sortment of ugly feelings welled up anew but I dared not show it on my face.

My mighty will resurrected once more to hold the sigh abay.

There was little more to say thus I said no more. I could only hope my magic may sooth them as it did me.

_Multicoloured light coalesced as the voices of rivers, rocks and grass sung in my hands._

This time my smile was in no way forced.

.

* * *

.

"Y'know I think my mental state is finally stabilising." I remark offhandedly to Rin as we walked to school.

She looked up at me in surprise "It was unstable?"

I give her a droll look. How someone so learned could be so dim is beyond me- wait no, it isn't actually. _Meh_. Rin's not the best with human interaction but even still, it should have been fairly obvious I was a weird given all the hugging and shit.

"Yes." I say dryly. "It was."

"Between my amnesia, your command seal," she flushes faintly, "and my inability to astralize, your fault by the way," it wasn't actually but I was feeling mean, "resulting in myself having to take on a more youthful form just to stay near you… my head was a bit of a mess." It really was. Who knew Heroic Spirits could experience hormones like that.

Rin was looking suitable chastened, though a bit angry at the "your fault" dig.

"Though not overmuch, my state of mind changes to suit the age I make myself. I am more taciturn and malicious in my oldest form, whereas right now I am slightly more whimsical and playful in my actions instead of outright malevolence." I was rather frightening in the latter years of Arthur's rule…

_**Camlann.**_

"The amnesia added to that, it clouded my vision for a time, put me off balance. Normally that instability wouldn't be such a big deal, but combine it with having to stay young-ish…" Feh.

"Still, it was the command seal that did me in." Seriously.

Rin squirms again, it brings a smile to my face.

"I have only called three people _princess _in life. Two were my lovers, the other my adopted daughter. Given the young age you have summoned me in, you can guess of which the three I was imprinting on you due to the seal." My actions were cringe worthy.

"... Are you-" "Angry?" I finish her question.

She nods mutely. Looking rather put down, correctly contrite.

"A bit." I admit. "Because of your command there was a part of me that treated you as my trusted and beloved lover." She looks down but I can see her ears are red. "There was also lust, lust that I really only barely able to hold back by reverting to my youngest form whenever possible." Rin had stopped walking now, she was gripping her skirt.

"You were in a rather precarious position you know?" It's not like she could have resisted had I lost reason. Having had a command seal used on me once before I would be more wary of them.

"That command really was badly worded. But at least we all learnt something from this didn't we?" I ask her pointedly.

"...m..." She mumbled. Normally I would let it go, but as stated, I feel the spite rearing up in my newfound clarity.

"I said, _didn't we~?_" I lean in, a smile that deserved to be punched off no doubt on my face.

"_Yes_." A cross between a hiss and a squeak. Hur hur. Her hair smells nice.

"Well it's getting better now." I start walking again, Rin catching up to my side a moment later, now all prim and proper.

"How so?" Speech pattern: recovered. She's fine. Such resilience.

"Eh, well though I _say _it's getting better, It's more like I now know **what **to address y'know?" That too vague?

"Tis not as if your command has disappeared, though it has certainly weakened, the biggest difference from before is now I _know where it is_ so to speak." That's still too vague.

"The term _princess, _to me, translates as _beloved one_." A wistful tone colours my voice. "I'm currently creating a new meaning to attach to the term princess."

"With my poor magic reserves I delved into the more esoteric, less prana intensive branches of magecraft for quite a while before finding my speciality. One such cantrip-craft was self-hypnotism, a bare basic to all spells taken to heights others rarely bothered to go." I explained blandly.

"Reconstructing my mind a bit to work around the command spell is annoying but not too difficult." Just time consuming.

"Still, with the term _princess _so closely associated with **love**, it's not like I can so suddenly shift it to professional duty." I wouldn't want to even if I could anyway. "That kind of extreme change might even defile the emotions associated with memory. There is **very **little that I would risk the memories of my loved ones for."

"Right now I'm assigning your role as princess to… a little sister figure… or something like that." I explain with suppressed nostalgia.

"... Oh." I look to her in question, her voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Had she not already recovered from the guilt trip?

"You have an older sibling already?" I don't recall that.

"No." The answer was far to quick and curt. Without another world she picked up the pace.

'_What... What...? What...?!'_

What the heck?! _Does _she actually have an older sibling? Seriously? Hello canon? What?!

It was certainly the little sister commen- _agh_...

'_... Aghh.' _I tug my beard only to snatch for empty air. I feel my face scrunch, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl moves me, before I instantly suppress the rising rage. My face goes blank.

_**Worms.**_

A long breath tumbles out through my nose like an avalanche as I work my jaw. I feel Short Fang thrum to the beat of that foreign yet nostalgic wrath once more.

**Soon.**

.

* * *

.

The "clothing" is made of feral Hemp, also known as ditch weed by modern terms. It's cannabis, or its non-industrialised medieval grandpa anyway.

Rather itchy on the skin, I suppose it was meant to be salt in the wound choosing hemp fibre rather than the more common and only slightly more expensive cotton.

Ironically, this works better for me. Though both hemp and cotton are organic materials, cotton being almost pure Cellulose and hemp being one of the fastest growing plants in the world, I work with hemp better.

In the future, when I have a greater order over my Odic force, I doubt it'd made much difference be it cotton or hemp, alas for now, I must prefer hemp. It's thicker and capable of enduring my clumsy magic better than the thin strands of woven cotton.

Gentle brushes of wind caressed my hand as a faint, almost pale blue lights came to being in my palm. These were wind spirits, or baby spirits to be more accurate.

Wind, magically, can embody a heck of a lota things. It can represent fertility, polygamy, pride and selfishness, yet is also counted as the "Noble Element" of the five alignments with it's corresponding colour of blue.

It can also symbolise wit and emotional freedom, somewhat overlapping with water that can indicate wisdom and emotional serenity.

It's also perfect for assisting my self-taught structural grasp.

I've not a clue if I'm doing it "right" as it were, my magic, my _Fae _magic, is crafted and practised through instinct and following the mental nudges of my bugs. Despite the not trivial effort I have out into finding a teacher of _some _sorts, the results were less than Stella.

_'Arash! No!'_

The tiny puffs of wind, and they truly were tiny, huffed over to the rags. It was as ever, no matter how many times I'd seen it, pretty darn cute.

My Odic force did not so much as "flow", but leaked _onto _the adorable spirit bugs. I did not force it on them, nor did I attempt any hamfisted prana merge, but my life-force almost literally _dripped _like water onto the zephyrs.

I had found, after much trial and error, that my bugs did not cope well with any sudden influx of foreign energy, they were rather delicate like that. One must allow them to take the od at their own pace.

_Work with nature, not control it_ and all that.

This is where the slow part of Fae magic I mentioned before comes in.

'_But, for once,'_ I think as I sneak a glance at my attendants, '_I am not at all bothered by the leisurely nature of my bugs.'_

The shiny looks in their eyes and _almost _subvocal cooing was gratifying enough for me to lean back and accept it this once.

"""_Hwaaa~_""" … Yep. Those sounds were just too damn _precious _to muster any sort of exasperation.

.

* * *

.

Shirou Emiya, or Emiya Shirou I suppose, is flippin weird yo. Like balls to the wall weird. Like seriously, really, seriously, really weird.

But ah like 'im, and I'm sure that says _something _about me, who knows what.

He's also a little different from "canon", the timeline I'm familiar with, in quite a few regards. Eh... my memory's not what it used to be, plus those times were from a literal lifetime away, but I'm _pretty _sure the justice puppy was part of the go-home club and **not **school president.

He was also a former Kyudo club member, a veritable savant at applying it's core principles, and **not **the former Kendo club captain with a slew of awards and anecdotes to his name.

He was also an inept third-rate magus without a teacher cannibalising his circuits performing a bastardised version of the structural grasp spell, and **not **a semi-accomplished _druid _in hiding using _my _signature spell in tandem with a _**fully awakened Avalon!**_

'_What. The. **Fuck**.'_ Were the primary thoughts of mine upon seeing the "_supposed"_ hero of justice in training for the first time.

But y'know, I'm actually rather proud I managed to cause this; because _obviously _this is my fault- _it's my signature spell he's using_\- and given some space to think, I'm pretty sure I know what's going on too.

Agh, I digress. Point is I like this new Shirou (as opposed to the fictional "old" one I've never met), not to mention the slight kinship I feel to a fellow spirit user (of the druid template at that). If what I theorise is true, then he's pretty much my grand-disciple anyway.

Which is cool. I didn't live long enough to see my grand-kids in either lives, so maybe I can project my repressed desire to be called gramps on Shirou?

… Maybe that's going a bit too far.

Alas, it is tempting. The way he analyses myself and Rin almost constantly, searching for weaknesses and soft spots, strategising any possible way to kill us appeals to my darker side.

The fact he does it _**just in case**_ while maintaining the justice puppy mentality is the cherry on top. He would kill us, or attempt to, for the sole betterment of others **only**.

I believe he would just as soon die for us. He bares us no ill will, nor a scrap malice, but his instincts demand he pay attention. We are dangerous, **I** am dangerous, I have the _potential _to be dangerous, that makes me a potential issue.

And he would deal with that issue even if it kills him.

It is honest to Buddha, figgin hilarious.

'_Fuck, now I really want him to call me gramps.'_

But I digress… sorta.

"Ey Rin. Today I want us to go formally greet a person."

.

* * *

.

The tiny zephyrs had done their job. My Odic force had dribbled onto them and then flouted upon their miniature puffs to fully encompass the rags. From there, wind and hemp _mingled_.

My Od was guided by tiny hands to _feel _and understand the material far better than I could ever do unaided and at a far lesser cost too, but far, far slower.

I reminded myself of the core principle of my magic; I did not control the fae bugs, they just liked me enough to indulge my whims.

I must be patient, I must be humble.

_Spirit assisted structural grasp performed successfully._

After the wind, came my earthen fae.

Wind has the ironclad shade of blue, I've never seen any take on a different hue. Unlike their cousins that drift and soar up high, the earth-type spirits come in varying colours.

Earthen yellows and brown, dark moss greens to slab grey and the occasional flinty black; "Earthen spirits" being such a broad term has a diverse ethnicity to fit I suppose.

My greatest affinity out of all spirits (save the occasional anomaly like Radish) are with those of the yellow and brown tint, but for this particular job, the moss green family would be more suitable.

Resembling semi-transparent balls of fluffy moss, they, like all my bugs, were unequivocally adorable. Unlike the baby blue zephyrs who wove and drifted to their destination however, the moss balls bobbed steadily in small clumps to my directions.

"""_Hwaaa~_""" … Mmm. Still gratifying to hear.

Governance, loyalty, selflessness, stateliness, sloth are all Earthen attributes, the attribute my moss embodies, is _vitality_.

A plant-like unending will to live, striving to survive without an errant thought- perfect for performing Alteration on biological components.

_Like hemp._

Unlike with wind fae, where one has to drip the od onto them, the moss balls are a tad more sturdy, capable of enduring and accepting a small (tiny really) but continuous stream of power.

They do have a limit though, with the zephyrs, should you overstep their capacity they would merely lose shape for a few seconds before pulling themselves back together. With the moss balls though, one step over the limit would see them crumble into dust almost immediately, and it takes quite some time for them to regenerate.

The trick is to hold that stream of power at their very limit so they produce the dust motes but are just able to hold their form.

The dust motes that fall are what shall _merge _into the hemp, just as the wind mingled, and through revitalising the material; _change_.

With the moss balls humming over my hands and hemp, tickling slightly with their soft tufts, I settled into what would be a mentally trying but well practised spell.

_Spirit assisted alteration commencing._

Patient and Humble was I.

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* * *

.

Of course, at a later date I learnt what I was doing was not alteration at all, but more akin to spirit assisted alchemical transfiguration.

Go figure. Fudging up a self-taught spell to produce a far more specialised result, the justice puppy and I were quite similar in that respect.

.

.

We were stalking Shirou home- and I mean that in the weirdest way possible- as soon as school concluded for the day.

As observed this past week and a half (backed up by some snooping), Shrirou forgoes after school council responsibilities to his vice-president Issei every Thursday to head straight home- presumably.

I had slackened control on the [Youth Origin] spell and allowed myself to age (and grow) up to an older form, the very same Rin witnessed after she (mis)summoned me.

Trailing a mere dozen or so feet behind our quarry, my misbegotten little princess expressed her distaste most avidly.

"This is _soooo _not elegant you big lunk, why must I, a proud Tohsaka, the second owner of this entire friggin city(!), follow the damn honours student brownie-" do I sense some jealousy there perhaps? "-like some damn _assassin class wannabee?!_" She whisper-shouted. "Rather- why are you so good at this anyway?!"

I rolled my eyes to look heavenward. I notice I do that a lot in this form. Must be the age.

"I qualify for all classes except Rider- nay wait, I probably qualify for that as well. Mmm. Sneaking and hunting would qualify you for the assassin class no? Twas my modus operandi afore I obtained some decent armour." And made my sword. "Still did so under command of Arthur along side Lancelot on the off occasion." Backed up by Agravin (and sometimes Merlin) we made the black-ops of the round table.

"... Ugh. Fine, whatever, but you still haven't told me _why _we're following the idiot nerd." That is a contradictory statement Rin.

"Yes I have." I have. "I clearly told you I wanted to greet a person." Multiple times in fact.

"But _who-_" She stressed.

"Surprise." I interrupt to tell her once more.

A kick to the shin that I barely felt was my response. My summoner gave a final irritated huff and crossed her arms, choosing to walk in that naturally bitchy way indicating you aint gettin' no snoo-snoo tonight mister.

… _Not that I get any snoo-snoo either way._

That would be necrophilia.

At least that inane back and forth conversation is finished. Meh, if she actually knew who I wanted to meet (and if the situation is indeed as I suspect it to be), then I would hazard a guess her response would be far more... staunch.

Something along the lines of "_Fuck. You." _then disbelief such a thing had occurred under her nose and followed by irrational humiliation-fuelled rage with a command seal enforced order of: "**Nuke them.**"

Not ideal. I'm more of a tactical missile than atom bomb to be honest...

Our prey- ahem. Our victim stopped abruptly up ahead, sending out a sudden gust of wind. A multipurpose fae spell I developed called "wind pulse". It can be used as a precursor for larger spells, represent the wind element in a formalcraft circle or, as sonny boy has demonstrated, be used as a magic sonar.

I waved off the wind spirits with nary a glance, telling them to ignore us, just as I had the last three times. An awakened Avalon may be cheatsy, but it's not quite on the level of B rank [Comradeship of the Fairies] oh sonny boy, oh kiddo, oh boyo boy~

Nufufufufu.

"Why does he keep stopping like that?" Still, he is good enough to cast the spell undetected by my so-called first-rate master.

Eh, well, that's not really a fair comparison. Fae magic's just like that. It is _nature_; the spell, like all fae spells, is not cast directly, but uses the spirits as a medium. Nature becomes ones wand. A part of Gaia is one's translator.

To Rin, for all her talent, would have felt nothing but a slightly stronger than norm breeze.

"He's checking for followers. His instincts are good." I'd rather she not learn he was casting magic until we reach our destination.

On a side note, the spell I have been using to veil Rin and I from sonny boy's senses (not the pulse of will used to wave of wind pulse) is a wind plus water fae mix called… "misty veil".

_I call 'em as I see 'em._

It is that very same spell Shirou has been using almost constantly to hide his talents from my dear summoner's watchful eyes for years- or at least the week and a bit I've been here.

Just to a lesser degree.

I do believe there's also a sustainable passive spell been cast on him, the work of my part-time student. Clumsy, simple and ham-handed but cast successfully through sheer power and force of will.

"Oh... Like that checking reflections in windows and stuff?" Rin inquires.

"Something like that." I confirm as we continue walking. Shirou has picked up the pace.

It would seem he has no more intention of stopping tonight.

'_Well then…'_ I bared my fangs involuntarily as my shoulders hunched in excitement. '_This should be…'_

Interesting~

.

* * *

.

The process was complete. For my entire ensemble that is.

Laid before me, under the inspecting eyes of my attendants and I, was a set a far cry from the tatters of bygone hours.

In the end, I decided just a simple hemp kimono thing wasn't enough. I needed to proverbially spit in the face of whoever arranged the rags, if not for the insult itself, then for the expressions of utter despair they caused on the faces of my attendants.

Over the course of the last hour or so, I've wowed them with my magic making them comfortable enough to sit on my bed to watch and sometimes contribute to the design, but such looks are not so easily forgotten.

It irks me, but it would not do to dwell.

From top to bottom:

There was a rustic circlet of wood (fetched from a branch outside) stylised in the ways of a stag's antlers, a late addition to the set, but my lady friends thought it crowned my raven lochs in manner that made me seem "majestic yet wild" so who am I to disagree.

The base of my top was the hemp yukata darkened by magic to a matte black, but instead of leaving it plain, I lightened the borders to a dull grey and had vertical pinstripes of the same colour adorn the piece.

The hemp itself had grown in length to fit my size, but it was not enough to stylise further, so I "borrowed" my bed sheets.

Amusingly enough, they were of better quality material the the rags themselves. Another layer to the "clever" insult I suppose.

With the bedsheets I had to be more careful with my od, but my bugs had gotten into a strangely good mood, it was easier than expected.

I did the exact same thing as I did to the hemp rags, except larger. I was going for a layered kimono look reminiscent to that of Japanese nobles. It was the most efficient use of limited materials to produce a cultured, albeit foreign, look.

_(AN: Try looking up 12 layered kimono or FGO Murasaki Shikibu stage 3)_

The already light-brownish cotton bedsheet turned second layer was darkened further into a smooth oak brown.

I couldn't do bright colours well, they weren't a natural colour for cotton, but I could do intricate.

This was where my company, under continuous encouragement, finally chipped in. We talked and conversed, relaxing them further to my presence, and discussed what to be printed on the cloth.

_It would seem, no matter what the age or era, fashion is a common language._

A depiction of mountains and forest was burnt onto the second layer in a warm cream colour. It matched well with the brown background.

I put my full skill set as an art student to test under the increasingly excited voices of my attendants. The result was nothing short of sublime. It was the greatest artwork I had ever made, completed in a small guest bedroom back-in-time.

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry" never seemed so appropriate.

Ultimately, laugh I did. Laugh long and hard.

Laugh alongside my new friends. It brought back the artist inside. To see another smile at my work, to smile at _our _work. To see them bounce like children on my bare bead as they surveyed the cloth was no less gratifying than the hugs I get from my housemates back home.

_Housemates in either lives._

The trousers were comparatively less complex. The second "piece" of my hemp rags expanded into loose cargo pants the same grey as the top, but without the pinstripes. The centrepiece was my top after all, it would not do to draw attention away from it.

_Too many cooks spoil the soup _as they say.

I would go barefoot as usual, shoes have not been "my thing" for a while now.

I _was _going to leave it at that, my reserves were down a quarter, but the looks of childish dejection was too much to bare. A weak man such as myself? I could only seek to appease.

I incorporated the ruined ribbons of my armour into the costume. I would have just repaired them, alas it was specifically stated not to come armoured. I had no intention to insult my hosts.

So I only too bits and edited them as tastefully as possible.

Bear-pelt pauldrons stiffened with leather stitched to the underside were created from a tattered bear-pelt vest and leather jerkin. A rather fancy Nordic knot belt buckle inlaid with steel bits like jewels went rather nicely with the plain leather belt itself.

My forearms were bare, there really was nothing left of my armguards, but I played around with my shinguards so as not to be completely barefoot.

The outcome was a sort of toeless sock. It was leather and cloth that went up to mid shin and with a single strip that went under-foot between heel and sole, strapped on nicely.

Still, that was as far as I could go. Altering (actually transfiguration) on my magically enchanted armour (what remains) was far more taxing. It took a full half of my odic reserves.

The ladies could tell and hid their disappointment well… but what could I do?

Goodbyes were mumbled, their eyes inexplicably moist now it was time to go. I came to the dim realisation this was perhaps the most fun they've had, the most respect they've been shown, in years.

They shuffled, not walked to the door. Heads drooped, not in fear but sadness. There was no rage to mustered. Only… _something_. A mix I could not name.

Just as they opened the door, I had to open my damn mouth. "My ladies..!"

They looked to me with such hope on their faces. Only for me to flounder. I opened and closed my mouth multiple times; to say nothing. In the end I could only look at them.

They left without further incident.

I looked at my rags, now finery. Wild yet majestic, and a piece of art. Art we shared…

'_Bugger.'_

I've given them a taste of freedom in creating art, now their chains, their daily life, will feel only that much more torturous.

'_Curse my bleeding heart for giving them hope eh…?'_

… Yeah. Woe is me. I don't see myself leaving this matter alone.

'_Double bugger.'_

I foresee myself making a mess in the near future.

'_Sorry Arthur.'_

.

* * *

.

Shirou slid open his mansion door as we watched from a distance. My contractor stood to the side with her arms crossed and tapping her feet impatiently.

"Well. Now what?" She demanded.

"Allow him a moment or two to settle in princess." I reply offhand as I look over the mansions bounded fields. "No call to be rude."

"I think disturbing him just after he has gotten comfortable is more rude..." Though she muttered that, she still made no move otherwise.

The concealment on the fields are decent, a fair bit better than the sustainable spell on sonny boy, clearly my half-student has had time to practise.

There are various effects, it's mainly a passive ward system, detecting intent and such, though there are a few curses worked in. But the main defence is a non-lethal but potent fae enforced dizziness spell.

My half-apprentice has taken my words to heart. It is not what's _strongest_, but what is most _appropriate_.

Still nothing before me however. Might as well be paper.

A fae assisted bounded field? Puh-lease.

Not only do I have almost complete control over the wards themselves due to [Comradeship of the Fairies], but bounded fields are one of my specialities anyway. Blessed with [Demon eyes of Dimension] how could I not work to my strengths?

I decided it was time.

"The time is nigh. Come my little princess. Let us meet and greet." I spoke grandiosity, involuntarily slipping into old habits and growing an inch.

I strode up to the gates, my contractor hurrying to keep up.

I passed under the wards as a complete ghost, my contractor did not.

Even fae magic has its limits, my dear summoner most certainly felt the bounded fields, as did those inside feel her.

I felt the spirits of the mansion stall and tense with their landlords. I smiled, nay grinned, fangs alight in the starshine. My student has indeed been practising.

'_Has she gotten stronger? I doubt it, there must be circumstances, but a man can hope no?'_

I sensed movement inside, my demon eyes now active and glowing a malicious gold in the dark spied shadows through the walls.

I traced their outlines, one sonny boy, I traced the other, a smaller more petite one.

Finally, my suspicions were affirmed.

Finally, with a laugh that was more bark, I let loose my presence.

The courtyard burst into colour.

The spirits so bright they would be visible to all, even those without magic, to those with magic, it was close to blinding. The fae danced and whirled, finally free of my suppression to behave, they flocked to me.

They flocked to their friend and I welcomed them to my embrace.

The wards collapsed, concaving inwards like parchment before a black hole. I laughed and grew.

Littly dust motes, bugs of multi-colours rejoiced in my presence and fuelled me with their very existence.

I grew, I aged, I laughed. The spell of Youth leaving me. Scars bloomed like birthmarks, patchwork upon my skin. My bones stretched and bulged as muscle ballooned to compete.

Hair shortened, then abruptly lengthen, no longer were they hair, but metal wire with the width of silk, rigid in the mane of a giant. It came down my neck, thicker than a child's torso, and to my shoulders, broader than a child is high. It also came over my shoulder at the front, framing me like a pharaoh's headpiece.

My clothes swapped for armour. Piece by piece, they burst into existence on my person fuelled by the rainbow of lights furiously whipping around me.

"**HAH!**" With a single, impossibly deep cry, all went still. The bounded field reasserted itself with myself as the centre. The blinding lights of the fae simmered to that of a firefly. Calm returned to this place and reality asserted itself.

I stood still, towering, a step away from the door of this mortal abode.

My stumbling summoner was the furthest thing from my mind. The taller shadow struck still with shock inconsequential. The only thing of importance was that nostalgic aura hidden from me by mere wood and stone.

I resisted the urge to destroy and trample, but could not contain the delighted growl from escaping my chest.

Others would only hear the echo of a chainsaw.

My prey would hear final confirmation it was truly me.

And I received final confirmation when they responded as I thought.

I waited, tracing the shadows outline almost hungrily as it slowly moved closer.

They stepped carefully, bit by bit, but was to graceful to call plodding. Thoughts raced through my mind, to quick for me to capture. There was no use, my instincts had flared up completely.

I had tried to suppress them by thinking her of only as my half-apprentice, but there was no use. It happened in the end.

I grew and aged further. To more than twice the height of the sliding entrance and almost as wide.

Finally, finally, finally, the shadow, now so much clearer to mine eyes, reached the door. The final thing to be separating us, _pathetic paper!_

I contained the rage.

It slid open. Slowly, oh so slowly. Till finally that small figure appeared in the doorway. They stepped forth, so I could see them clearly and they I.

I went still. Just as I caused the world to realign with a shout, this one has done to me with a single look.

I leered down at her.

"**My liege.**"

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* * *

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* * *

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**AN**: Wow. That was a long one in the making.

Anyway, I'll keep this short, Edit later. Probably lots of typos and stuff. Tired.

Sorry for the wait. Obligatory dogeza.

Thank you for the support.

Working on Under Dim Lighting.

Leave a like and review if it pleases.

I'll see y'all next time.

(7,085 words. Longest chapter written ever.)


	9. Chapter 9: Various Impressions

.

Arturia Pendragon was happy. She loathed it.

She had been blissful, content, warm, safe and untroubled for a decade, ten years, it tortured her like nothing she had ever felt before.

Not Morgana defiling her on "his" wedding night, not the parting barbs of Sir Tristan, not the choked sobs from Sir Gawain clutching Sir Gareth, not the whispers that trailed her, not even the enraged howls from Sir Artus cradling that tiny blooded form.

The pain of Clarent piercing her own flesh, the sound of Rhongomyniad piercing her own blood, these did not compare.

Nor the face of mad grief that took a corrupted Sir Lancelot, nor the despair following that fateful command without a choice…

Not even the sight of what followed.

Not even then.

Arturia Pendragon loathed herself. She was happy.

'_Such utopia… wasted on ye.' _The words have a strange echo. The dying words of an old warrior, haunting her far longer than she'd care to admit.

Even when she still breathed, and bore the crown, living not on the whim of an eldritch promise- those words ever plagued her.

It was a petty personal attack made in spite, but over time, she found herself agreeing with it nonetheless.

She could not recall the face nor the voice of the one who spoke such to her, but that mattered little; her own had long since substituted.

She was unworthy. Unworthy of many things, to many to count, but unworthy of happiness most of all.

Yet. "Mother! I'm home!" Yet she just couldn't help it.

A full body shudder, from head to toe, took her at the voice. Pure joy, so completely juxtaposed with her existence, yet so completely natural.

It was sinful, she thought.

"Welcome home." Her voice was not loud, but she knew it would reach him. "Shirou-kun."

Her son.

Her own inadequacies far too great to list, but her sole, single action so utterly beyond reproach, her redemption: came in the form of a child she calls her son.

The thought used to make her nauseous, now she only experienced slight dizziness. She saw it as a significant improvement.

Her son rounded a corner, bringing himself into her view. Her son. Her son. Her only triumph in a life of defeat and failures. Her beloved son.

Her son was troubled.

Even with her failing eyesight she could tell of the stifled emotions suppressed only by a thin veil of discipline. Though she had taught him well, his "king's face" worked only situationally.

Shirou could never hold it in front of his mother.

"Food is prepared." Arturia gestured to the plates and bowls tastefully filled with various foods before her.

"Ah," Shirou nodded, "let me just get changed."

"Mmm." She hummed in acknowledgement and watched his back disappear down another corridor. Her eyes did not waver an inch from the spot from where he disappeared from her view, nor would they until he returned.

Food was kept warm by fae magic and the Saber turned mother sat in perfect seiza before the low table of their living room, just as she had been for the last two hours.

Motionless, with her hands in her lap and eyes on an empty doorway, her thoughts thrummed with nothing but the thought of a singular person.

This was her life.

An existence formed of patience and devotion in all its simplicity.

There was no kingship to be had, no knights to lead, no country, no sacrifices, no choices, only one, singular focus. Her son. The pivot of her life.

Love? You could call it thus at a push, however Arturia was too fractured to express love in the conventional sense. In truth her feelings were more along the lines of dependency and fanatical loyalty tinted through the lenses of repressed maternal instinct.

She knew she could not express normally, thus completely eradicated that path of action from her mind, all in favour of expressing love through a far less healthy means... one that was self-destructive.

A love poor for one's health. A love that was nearly wholly internalised.

This was love at the expense of love… could that still be called love?

She smiled as her son came back into view.

"Sorry for the wait." Shirou said, taking his seat on the other side of the table.

"Mmm." Arturia closed her eyes and hummed softly in acceptance.

It was most fortunate for the former king that the focus of her rabid, repressed love was none other that the boy before her. A being who has the potential to be, arguably, even worse than his adoptive mother in regards to emotional intelligence.

However that is a whole different issue to address.

For now, ""Itadakimasu."" They would eat.

They began in comfortable silence, as the Emiya residence often was. Neither the boy nor his mother would shy from conversation, but it was rare for them to start one.

Especially when alone with each other. They had no need for platitudes or useless words, they had connected to the point conversation could pass through eyesight and gestures alone.

It was through this Shirou knew his mother knew he was troubled. It was through this Arturia told him they would talk later.

Thus the only sounds were that of chopsticks and chewing.

…?

Arturia felt something at that moment. It was nothing concrete, merely a phantom itch, the remnants of her degraded and dulled instincts whispering. It was that that caused her to abruptly close her mouth and refrain from taking in another mouthful.

It was what caused her to abruptly stoke those dying embers of what she once was once more. The first time in more than a year.

She ignored her son's confusion, who realised her change in mood, in favor for _listening_.

"Moth-" She silenced him with a stare, _not now_ she thought, his safety was more important that his comfort.

She listened. Listened to the spirits, allowed her instincts to flare, allowed just a bit of herself return.

…

Nothing.

She listened harder. _Hearing_, her sixth sense, pushed to its limits. She listened for the sounds of magic, she listened to what the spirits hum and sing. She listened for discrepancies within her territory.

…

Nothing.

The bounded fields? Dormant. Spirits? Languid. Her instinct?

… burning out. The whispers were silent, gone without a trace. Forcibly flaring her Instinct skill any longer was impossible too.

One last strain, listening for anything, anything at all…

…

Nothing.

_Threat non-existent, abated or passed _came a cold, calculative voice from within, then it was gone.

She let the skill drop with a relieved sigh. That was more taxing than she expected. _You're not young anymore_ she ruefully reminded herself.

Well, she hasn't been young for the last few centuries, what's a few more years eh?

She let out a weak snort and opened her mouth to address her son's queries.

Then the wards went _ping_.

And everything went to shit.

.

.

Camelot was grand. Truly, it was magnificent. It was a fortress city rather than medieval castle.

The high stone walls glowed a soft, serene white light, all the more noticeable now it was approaching dusk. It was due to the walls that there were very few torches, everything on ground level had some form of ambient lighting, but one could still clearly see the dimming orange sky and the faint, early stars.

This setting, or rather mental backdrop the setting creates, gave the grounds an unearthly feel.

People walk lighter, tones were slightly hushed and the only looks sent towards the inner sanctum were that of reverence, but all these actions were subconscious.

Camelot was such a place that influenced it's people into acting this way.

The effect is less pronounced during the day, when everything is brightly lit, but given some darkness and shadows to contrast against, Camelot gives the onlooker nothing to describe it with but _holy _and _ethereal_.

I fit right in.

… With the _ethereal _part that is, I'm far from holy.

I walked normally, led by a servant, yet strangely I garnered looks of awe instead of fear and only token amounts of wariness.

I was under no illusion that this was due to the denizens of Camelot suddenly becoming more open-minded, nor was it due to a sudden change in opinion on me defeating Mordred.

It was almost entirely due to the single **fact **that "I fit in".

Camelot was pure, it was dignified, and thus I, who so simply fell into place with the background, must be dignified and pure too merely by association.

Perhaps come tomorrow, when people will see me in a clearer light and Camelot is less glowy, opinions will revert, gazes will return to wariness, but for that moment; I was left dealing with the rather uncomfortable sensation of being revered.

It is often said that only in the darkest of times, does one's true nature reveals itself.

This was hardly the darkest of times, but it _was _the evening.

And the Camelot I walked now was certainly a sight different from the one I witnessed that morning.

It has done little to endear itself to me.

The quietness and inhuman aura seemed to turn the common man and woman fickle with their respect.

A nightly Camelot is different. _Indifferent _to most, haughty against others, yet at the same time, unfairly biased in favour of a few. It encouraged mindless reverence targeted at certain _things_.

That I am one such _thing _is of little importance.

I still don't really like it.

"Sire, we have arrived." My guide said respectfully with a humble bow.

"Mmm. Thank you, the scenic route calmed my nerves." I told him. It was a half-lie. There was barely any nerves to begin with, I just wanted a longer tour for me to get a feel of the place, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

"Ah!" His back straightened. "Sire humbles me." He looked far too happy at simply being thanked.

I gave him a soft smile. Something I was actually able to somewhat pull off; a serene calming walk, no matter my unspoken feelings on the place, had affected me more than I thought.

"Then, by your leave I shall inform the crier of your arrival." I gave him a silent nod, I'm starting to figure out when to and when not to speak around servants now.

He cracked open the manway a smidgen.

The manway was a smaller, "man-sized" door that is built into larger castle- gate like doors. It was a door inside a door, a cat-flap but for humans if you will.

Golden light spilled out along a general hub of noise. The colour of the light from inside the hall, the Hall of the King, was striking when contrasted with the pale glow I stood in.

The manway closed with a click.

"The crier will announce you now." Once more I gave him a nod of confirmation as he stepped back.

Two armoured guards, previously silent, clanked over.

They each placed their hands against their respective door and braced, waiting for the signal.

"_Announcing!_" Though muffled heavily by thick wood, one could still hear the shrill voice of the crier.

"_The victor of the duel!_" Ah, so that's how they're gonna play it?

Though very little sound escaped the feasting hall as it was, there was still a noticeable drop in background noise.

"_Hailing from Luitcoyt._" The west-midlands, just east of the Welsh/British border.

"_The good Sir Giant-Kin!_" That was the guards' cue.

Almost uncannily synchronised, they pushed as one against the three meter tall doors. Doors which swung inward smoothly to the pleasant groan of wood.

Light gushed out as a wall of colour.

I let it wash over me like a wave, I felt the change in temperature on my face and bare feet. The warmer air was pleasant on my toes.

Without another word I padded forward. Hands hidden within the sleeves of my kimono-esq robe, I kept any fidgeting hidden. I needed to show a strong front.

A dozen of my bugs, ever present, reassured me.

The hall was silent. I paused a few steps in, the stone slabs beneath my feet noticeably warmer. The doors behind swung shut with a deceptively quiet thud.

I surveyed the crowd. My voice will not falter.

"Greetings all." I said.

King Arthur stood from his throne.

.

.

The unrestrained power displayed by her Servant was terrifying. It blinded her completely, both in the magical and mundane sense alike.

Her eyes watered from the searing brightness he caused.

It was mildly painful, would be even worse had the contract they shared not provide as an unconscious buffer.

But Rin was no stranger to pain, not in the slightest.

She ignored the sting and stubbornly fought against her instincts. With a quick application of self-hypnotism, she overcame them and opened her eyes in the midst of a storm.

Still, that only made the chaos of colours even more painful, the lights of the fae searing their image onto Rin's retina.

She could do nothing but endure.

Yet still the vortex of power grew and surged in strength.

It went up her nose, a cluster of wind and scents, it clogged her throat, the taste soil, it ran over her skin, a phantom chill of spring water, and eventually, it became too much to watch ever for her.

But those dancing flames remained in her vision. She braced and tensed, leaning forward against the maelstrom, and endured. Evan as she was buffeted this way and that, she endured.

Then it stopped, so abruptly.

Her ears were ringing, she dropped to her knees and heaved. It was so sudden.

There was nothing to brace against, the air around her felt empty. A weight lifted and the imaginary fist buried in her stomach was removed.

The numbing burn of her circuits her only anchor to reality at that moment.

All else, thought, direction, purpose, was lost to her. Only the familiar warmth of her burning life force reminded her she was real.

Her breaths came out quick, hot and wet.

Then he spoke and it was like she had been slapped. Reality had just made itself known anew.

From her floating dazed state, Rin was plunged into her body one more. Sensation flooded her.

"_**My liege.**_"

When he spoke, the world spoke with him. Rumbling up from the earth, echoing down from the skies, yet only _his_ voice_, _origination from _his _chest, from _his _mouth, His **true **voice_,_ sent her into uncontrolled shudders.

She was a mess.

She was a mess and she had no clue why.

Still with a swimming consciousness but hyper-sensitive sensations, she lifted her wobbly head to her Servant, inadvertently catching sight of the new figure who had stepped into her Servant's vision.

Petite and thin yet with a willowy impression, she had long, pale blonde hair and was garbed in a homely looking yukata.

Rin's analytical but taxed mind could discern nothing more than that as yet another wave of vertigo took her.

She could only watch, a spectator, powerless to speak let alone stand. A position she had hoped to have outgrown, one she strove to forget.

She watched drowsily as the small figure looked up at the Titan that was her Servant. From her position on the ground, it looked like the newcomer barely came up to the giant's knees, even shorter than she.

She watched as her vision blurred, she vaguely saw the blonde woman crane her head up to look at her Servant,

She watched as _something _passed between the two.

Then, with black spots creeping in, she watched as the woman bowed a full ninety degrees.

"My Lord." Dimly, Rin thought the woman had a nice voice.

Rin felt the world still, though this time not in tension, not as a greater force exerted its will upon it, but in abject surprise.

"-**Ah**?" Surely the face her Servant was making would be quite comical no?

_She had no idea as to why it would be however._

From that point on the spots were too large, she could barely see. Her head hung, sluggishly she rose a hand to slap herself, only to feel wetness upon reaching her mouth.

'_Blood?'_

_No- _through squinted eyes, with the last vestiges of her will she observed her hand- _saliva_.

At some point she had started drooling.

She could hold no longer. With a slump, she let herself go.

The last thing she heard was a befuddled, yet still booming titan-voice exclaim a mighty "**What?!**"

A chuckle echoed from within. It was rather funny to picture.

But still, before she fainted, there was one pertinent question at the forefront of her addled mind...

'_What the fuck is going on?!'_

.

.

It was rather awkward. It's surprisingly hard to blend into the background when you be looking like a well-dressed pillar.

Who'd have thought?

Upon arrival to silence, Arthur, or whatever her name is, toasted to me.

With the King leading, none dared not follow. I got a victory toast in my honour.

It was actually kinda cool. Despite having lived in this era for around two years now, I'd yet to actually experience the "medieval high-life" as shown on TV, so this was a first.

Without a mug, or flagon or horn to toast back with, I just raised my fist in a hovered it above my heart in a make-shift fantasy salute.

Later I realised I did a one-handed Attack on Titan salute, but with my fist facing down and forearm parallel to the ground instead of flush against my torso.

_Whatever._

Everything you do looks decent when you're big and have a straight back. Even if it doesn't, as long as there's no big fellas around, the small one's won't make fun of you… generally.

From there the feast progressed normally, if somewhat subdued in volume. I assume so anyway, I've little experience in this matter so everything is to be taken with a grain of salt.

I grabbed some grub from the main, long table stretching down the middle, and set up shop in one of the quieter corners.

Rude? Perhaps. But now I had a good view of the hall, any who wished to approach would have to do so in full view, both myself and others. I have thick enough skin to be rude in favour for my safety.

After a minute or two of sideways glances, the participants recognised I was going to make no move of my own and carried on themselves… somewhat.

Like I said; it's surprisingly hard to blend into the background when you be looking like a well-dressed pillar.

Seated as I was (the bench subtly reinforced to bare my weight), I'd not have quite the height survey the _entire _room, but still I was taller than most standing.

"Feh." I bit into another slab of meat, most likely meant to be shared, with gusto as I observed the feastgoers openly and unashamedly.

My skin can literally stop arrows, I won't let social norms halt me.

I took note of the faces especially.

I have not forgotten that someone, or some people, had plotted most pettily to humiliate me by sending rags.

So let's have a look-see eh?

Who wants to kill me the most, who's glaring and who's just wary, who's strong and who's dangerous, who's crafty and w- _Oh_.

_Oh._

The hall quietens once more, though not to silence but to murmurs as armoured footsteps clink and clash against the stone floor.

They stop some steps of my table.

The stench of dragon fill my nose and my bugs buzz gently. A swell of nostalgia permeates me.

'_Ello Mordred._

I gesture for the fully armoured bastard to take a seat.

She nodded stiffly.

Let us dialogue.

.

.

I stared at the woman across the table from me. She stared back. My reflection in her vivid viridian eyes stared back too.

The Emiya boy was moving in the kitchen, he also kept an eye on me.

Rin was behind me, laid out unconscious with her head cushioned by my cloak. She did not stare at me. Obviously.

It was almost awkward, but I was too familiar with the people present for it to be truly so.

I took a sip of the tea placed in front of me. Arturia, by coincidence mirrored me. We sipped as one. The cups made a gentle sound as we put them back on the table as one. We resumed staring at each other.

"Hmmmm." I hummed contemplatively. She did not. "Tch." I clicked my tongue and gave her a dirty look.

She smiled with a gently amused expression.

Yeah, this motherly aura going on is seriously throwing me off. It's kinda sexy. Alarmingly sexy. Blegh, Arturia and sexy does _not _go together. Arturia and stupid are practically synonym, but sexy? Ugh.

Before I get even more on the back-foot, it is best I take the initiative.

Thus I broke the silence.

"I have my suspicions," I began, "many already confirmed by the mere sight of you… but would you mind terribly telling me how you have come to being in this form?" I wasn't quite sure why I was wording it so diplomatically, but It just happened like that. It was like the Arturia before me was a stranger but not quite? Like a relative of your best-friend or something?

It was a new impression for me.

"- And also, why would you call me; _My Lord_?" As was that. There was only a profound sense of wrongness that invaded my person when she said that.

Her smile faltered. She let out a soft, forlorn sigh.

My eye twitched. Arturia and forlorn? **No**. Arturia and depressing, Arturia and depressingly stupid certainly, but _forlorn_?

She didn't answer immediately, instead looking over to the Emiya boy. He had taken the back-burner in my mind, the heat directed at him previously all but gone now.

Something unspoken passed between the two. Two that might have been lovers in another life quite obviously shared a very different relationship here.

With a wordless nod, the boy put down the dish he'd been wiping for the last two minutes and walked over. He took his place by the woman's side.

Arturia looked at me. "Very well." She spoke.

"Ten years ago…" Then she spoke some more.

.

.

I nibbled idly while eyeing the child across from me.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Ah," she wobbled, apparently not expecting me to talk so soon. "... Well enough." She eventually settled on.

I hummed in response. Stiff like a child. Mordred is coming across surprisingly delicate out of combat

"I'm still sore." I admit.

"Huh?!" So very young.

"Mmm." I nod and humm in confirmation. "You fought well. You fought bravely. That was the toughest fight of my life." I tell her.

It was hard to tell with her in full armour, but I felt that she stiffened slightly. Straightening her back and puffing out her chest with pride.

"Ah-um," As expected she did not jump to the boisterous '_well yeah!' _facade, she's still too young. Rather than tsundere she's just shy-dere. A naive child with a harsh upbringing, a child who fears her mother and idolises her father.

She's just a child.

"Y-You fought well too Sir Giant-Kin." She stuttered out. It was endearing, such a juvenile sentiment, '_you praise me I praise you' _isn't it? It's only right to return the favour no?

Playground rules for a child.

I chuckled habitually and gave her a gracious nod, more of a head-bow, accepting the praise for what it was. "My thanks good ser."

I returned to eating as Mordred, more comfortable now, sat back and observed me. I could feel her gaze analyse me, often flickering to my head, noting my height multiple times.

_A child._

It should be noted that through this entire conversation Mordred used magical modifier of sorts subtly changing her voice. The voice most people heard was one flat of emotion yet still pleasant on the ears. There was a slight huskiness to the fake voice, a bit scratchy but mellow.

Not a bad sound at all, but most importantly It was difficult to tell the gender from voice alone. In fact the timbre was fairly similar to the King's own sonorous pitch, who himself was quite androgynous, so that base was covered.

But for me; I heard the definitely feminine voice within the voice. I heard all the emotion the modification tried to hide, I listened to the child's voice.

I'm not _entirely _sure why I could hear it actually. Thanks to my bugs I can see through basic visual illusions fairly easily, but I've never _heard _through one.

Then again, it's not as thought auditory illusions are common, so perhaps this is just a new skill I've discovered? Or perhaps my bugs are getting stronger?

Perhaps…

My pondering was interrupted by a question from Mordred.

"Sir Giant-Kin, are you truly sore? I see no wounds and you move without difficulty…" She trailed off, somewhat despondent.

Was she sad at the thought of me lying to comfort her?

Alas it was no lie. I rolled up my sleeves and presented my wounds to her.

"Indeed I am sore. My wounds itch in pain, I still hear phantom clashes of our fight when I turn my head too quickly." I assured(?) her. "Worry not Ser Mordred, the gashes you have inflicted upon me have not healed so easily."

They were a sight. All up my forearms were crisscrossing, maroon red grooves. It was like I had tiger stripes.

"Kukuku, your blade was sharp and your swing strong. My arms were the most heavily damaged and need more time to heal," I pulled my sleeves back down. "Thus I eat." I gestured to the array of plates and bowls before me.

Then pause before going for another bite, trivial curiosity compelled me.

"Will you not?" I nodded at the food while taking the bite, waiting to see what she'd do.

She seemed to waver for a moment, groping for any reason not to, before once more returning to calm.

Wordlessly, in a surprisingly smooth motion the "mandibles" of her helm opened by sliding to the sides.

It revealed an angular jaw, numerous faded cuts across the chin, the skin looked rough and the lips were wide and dry.

The lower half of a face one might imagine to be a handsome man.

"Another illusion then." This time I voiced my thoughts.

Mordred really stiffened this time, it was the most noticeable reaction thus far. I also noted the "mouth" did not twitch a millimetre while the _true _jaw of Mordred clenched tight.

I snorted softly, interrupting whatever denial she might spout. "Worry not, I will not push."

"Simply an idle thought said aloud." She did not look reassured. "Rest easy Ser Mordred. The reasoning behind why one of your calibre must conceal their identity is beyond me, but allow me to say... " with a flex of my bugs the area around us was muffled to any who might listen in. "It does not matter." I looked at her eyes behind the slit visor. "Gender, age, background, lineage, it does not matter to me."

"That I suspect you may possess issues with such things, and such things give cause for you to hide yourself does little to ease the wounds you gave me." I clench a fist, allowing my partly scarred cuts to pulse visibly. "In fact such things only serve to further heighten my respect for you."

"So be at ease and eat. Come, eat well so we may regain our strength."

This was my aim. To be the first to address her insecurities. This was striking while the iron. Mordred will be pivotal in years to come, it would do me no harm to get to know her first…

But beyond that, **she's a child**. She's just a child. A child is not a pawn, a child is a treasure. A child is the King piece and they are our future. A child is to be protected and nurtured most tenderly.

Alas that is not possible here, but still-

Yes, I am looking at the future, but more than that, more than plotting and planning... I simply want to be her friend. I want to be her friend because she has none.

This was my olive branch.

I could _feel _her eyes widen as I spoke, they looked at me with something akin to wonder come the end. Then they narrowed, suspicious, discerning. She eyed me and I waited.

Slowly, she brought a piece of bread to her mouth. Almost cautiously, the illusion faltered and dropped, revealing the smooth white skin of the youth beneath.

Her lip was busted, there were bruises around her chin and her cheeks looked a raw red. A delicate complexion I see.

Mordred eyed me for a reaction but I only smiled.

I pushed forward a bowl. "Dip it in soup, the bread will soften up."

She looked at me with barely concealed hope.

A Child's First Friend part 1. Quest complete.

.

.

Rin, the sleepy princess, had yet to stir, the Emiya boy had gotten up only to refill our cups and Arturia was wetting her throat having just completed her story. I leaned back with my arms crossed, processing it all.

"Yeah, that's about what I thought." I said at length.

Arturia's skills in oration have not dulled, she's quite the storyteller. Though it was pretty much as I theorised, it was another thing to be told first hand.

Good to know pissing of the entirety of the round table to call her out on her shit public-speaking has not gone to waste.

I also note she has not explicitly explained why she called me 'My Lord', but I get the general gist.

_Besides..._

I would not push a mother to speak of her shame before her son.

"Fumu… This meeting was not in vain. The cost of irritating my summoner has been paid back manifold already." And we've yet to even begin negotiations… I eye the woman in front of me, "but before I wake my girl, is there anything you wish to ask of me? Only fair I return the flavor."

She tilts her head slightly, so very expressional, something she would have never done back when she was king.

Closing her eyes to think for a moment, she then opens them with a tender smile. Once more she sends a glance to her son, then back to me.

"No. I do not." Gentle and mild. Delicate yet enduring. But most of all resolute.

She had left one life behind for another, she would neither take nor make excuses.

She was a mother now and that was final.

_Damn was it sexy._

"Ha!" I let out a single bark of laughter. "Kukuku…" Which dissolved into chuckles. "Dat so?" My eyes flashed.

"That is so." Came the even reply,

I let the silence hand for a moment, my eyes glowing ominously… then I let them dim and huffed a snort. I was tired of all this pussyfooting anyway.

I let my true feelings, those I had long suppressed now, come to bare.

My size shrunk rapidly as I stretched in place, ineffective masks abandoned, choosing instead to relax and lounge more casually, merely enjoying the presence and scent of an old student.

I'd not be surprised had I suddenly burst into tears y'know. Pride was welling up within my heart. That idiot midget-king had grown up splendidly.

"Your knights would be overjoyed to hear that." I told her truthfully with a crooked smirk.

It was the first break in composure I'd seen from her thus far. Her eyes widened abruptly and she flinched back ever so slightly, but most telling of all was her hand that shot out towards the Emiya boy.

With my reduced height I was no longer a head-length below the ceiling, thus I could not see over the table but it was fairly obvious. That Arturia's first call for comfort was to hold her son's hand spoke books for itself.

My own gaze softened considerably looking at them. They were good for each other. Not as a sword and sheath, but as a mother and son. They did more than complete each other…

They nurtured each other.

_This Artus is happy._

My gaze softened even further.

"Well then." I reached back to start wake my princess, not by a kiss or anything, but by incessant poking. But before I could, a new voice interrupted me.

"Ah- excuse me." It was with slight surprise I realised the Emiya boy had not spoken a word this entire time till now.

"Wassup homie?"

"...Err. You _are _Sir Artus right? The Knight of the Fae? The Barefoot Knight?"

"Indeed 'tis I." You may bask in my glory grand-disciple.

"Then…" The sonny-boy straightened and shifted his posture so he was facing me dead on, with a very formal look on his face and a steadying breath, he bowed deeply, "Thank you. Fo-"

"You're welcome." I cut him off.

He looked at me surprised and I could only roll my eyes.

"Like mother like son eh?" It was quite amusing. "I get whatcha trying to say, there's no need to voice it… aye, sometimes credit must be expressed clearly, but other times it is best to just keep them in your heart."

"Somethings are priceless," I shoot a look at a vaguely surprised Arturia, "somethings can't ever be repaid. So as long as the one you're indebted to know you appreciate them, it's best to let your actions speak instead of cheapening gratitude with words."

Shirou looked off guard, like he didn't know how to respond.

"Language is our most clumsy form of communication you know~"

He looked as if he understood something. Words have their place, yes. But we are men of action- why not let actions speak for us then?

He silently bowed once more.

I reciprocate with a happy scoff.

"Any more?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

Mother and son look at each other, then at me and shake their heads in unison.

"Very well then." And with that.

…

*Poke-poke*

…

*Poke-poke-poke-poke-poke-poke-poke-poke-poke-*

.

.

The evening dragged on. It wasn't as bad as I expected though.

Mordred was a curious and avid talking partner once you got past her armour. She certainly needed the voice modulator; with how animated and peppy her voice naturally was, she'd be ousted as a child within five minutes of meeting.

No matter her accelerated growth.

We both ignored our surroundings, with practised ease and innocent ignorance respectively.

It was quite amusing. Myself aside, I believe there were many people hoping to establish a decent rapport with the up and coming, wandering Ser Mordred.

Alas, unfortunately for them she was rather stuck to me, and I was a decidedly less desirable talking partner.

There was no overt maliciousness, I just had the feeling they didn't know what to do with me. There was neither hide nor hair of the ones who conspired against me too.

All in all, the evening has been surprisingly pleasant so far.

"Ah."

… _I've invoked Murphy. He cometh..._

"What?" Mordred asked me.

"Ah, nothing. Just a stray thought."

"Hmmm. Okay." Endearingly simple. "So back to what Sir Giant mentioned earlier of kicks, I do think…" The conversation carried on.

Returning to our seats from a third trip to the buffet table, our fellows were giving us _both _weird looks now, but that can't be helped. A dragon and a giant would naturally put away a lot of food, what did they expect?

There were even anime-esq stacks of empty plates and bowls that servants would ferry to and from the kitchens.

_Unfortunately I did not spot the three attendants from earlier among them._

"Yes, I see your point. But by mixing in liberal amounts of illusions I-"

"-Wait, you have illusions?"

I blinked as we sat, _oh yeah_.

"Indeed." With a casual wave my bugs brightened ever so slightly and a plate disappeared from view. Then with another wave, it reappeared in a mirage. "Simple ones simply come with the domain as Friend of the Fae you see."

"You held back." She accused quite flatly. Not her modulated voice, her true voice. "You didn't use them in our duel."

"Well of course." I sat back. "It was a duel meant to showcase our talents, not a deathmatch."

"Huh?"

"It was a display. We matched brawn for brawn and wit for wit," what little we have of it anyway, "I did not want to ruin it with illusions."

"I used magic because that is a part of me, it is something I have painstakingly acquired, but illusions are completely my fae's ability. I have little talent for it." I told her.

"Oh…" She sounded a little guilty.

"Besides." I continue. "The use of illusions are one of my backup tricks, I use them sparsely and only when I'm going for a kill at that. There are very few alive who know of this ability."

"Oh." She sounded a bit touched now.

"And finally. They are called tricks for a reason. They remain in anonymity till use and thus their counters are difficult to grasp." I nibbled on some more meat. "If used them before a full crowd, they would hardly be tricks anymore now would they?"

"Oh." She processed. "Okay." She decided. "Sorry for accusing you so harshly, it was unbecoming of me." She said sincerely with a small seated bow.

It'd honestly be difficult to _not _get along with such an open and straightforward individual.

"Apology excepted. So back to using kicks in concert to illusions…" The conversation carried on.

The evening dragged on till it could drag no further, then it was night.

There was a resonant, metallic and mellow ringing sound that drew the attention of all present. We looked to the back of the hall, to the raised table and platform.

The king stood. It was time for him to address and reward.

"Fumu."

_I'm up it would seem._

.

.

"I should kill you all." That's not very nice Rin.

"No killing our allies."

"I did not decide that you faithless servant." Such vitriol I hear.

"Don't worry, I decided for you."

"You-!" She bit down on (what was probably) a scathing retort. "Fuuuuuuu~ Haaaaaaa~" Yep, yep. That's right princess, deep breaths now.

"Fu, fu, haaa~ Fu, fu, haaa~" … Wait a sec.

"Are your labour contractions giving you pain?" I ask her concerned.

"I'm not pregnant!" Rin whirled on me. "I'll have you know the breathing pattern popularised by mother's in labour is multipurpose, applicable to any high-stress situation requiring the relaxation of abdominal muscles!" She flipped her hair. "So there!"

That was strangely informative.

"Tohsaka-san is knowledgeable." The fucking brat sent a smile at my girl. **Don't talk to my princess so casually ya lil shit**-! Wait.

_Stop_, we're not actually lovers.

Oops. Luckily I warned by bugs before hand not to act on my impulses outside of combat, but still, that was definitely the strongest reaction I've had thus far.

Is this the **[**Harem Protagonist**] **skill at work? Did I instinctively, regardless of command seal, feel a rival male encroach upon my territory?

How fearsome.

"Oh, well, why thank you. It was through dedicated study an- no wait!" She pointed a finger most aggressively at the lead of our group of four. "I'm angry! I'm super angry!"

"Leaving asid-" "-Rival mage, blah-blah, Second-Owner, blah-blah, living spirit, blah-blah, Grail War, blah-blah." I cut in. "Princess we've listened to the same rant twice in the last ten minutes… and the rants themselves last four minutes each." I add drily.

"They're allies now see?" I place a hand on her shoulder. It goes to show our budding bond when she doesn't shake it off despite her vexation at me. It also caused me to be less flippant addressing her qualms.

'_I apologise for acting so independently, I got ahead of myself, but this was a special case.' _I spoke telepathically over our link. '_We're partners and I went behind your back to do this. Now that I've calmed down, I'm properly reflecting on my actions. I really do feel bad for causing you such stress.' _

Honestly I could have at least given her a word of warning, but too caught up in the excitement, too giddy in finding the one so tied to my Spirit Origin, I lost sight of the greater situation. I was inconsiderate. I felt honest remorse.

'_But I would still do it again.'_ If with a tad more tact. '_That is the truth. I apologise once more.'_

It was much harder for a master to speak telepathically with the Servant, but I received her feelings loud and clear nonetheless. '_Why?' _She was seething, raging and sulking all at the same time.

Typical teenage-girl stuff frankly.

"He doesn't even have a Servant." She hissed at me. Indeed despite having command seals for some amount of time, the Emiya boy and his mother have neglected to summon for reasons unknown.

"Which is why we are fixing that now." I reply with the poise of a middle-aged dad.

"Which is _why _we should butcher him now while we still have the chance." She retorts with the homicidal charm of a girl on her period.

_Fairly sure Rin has stalled them for the duration of the skirmish with magic though. _

"Putting aside my minor misgivings on killing children," Emiya would be an adult by medieval standards anyway, "I still wouldn't, there would be no point."

"As sonny-boy here has yet to summon, the Grail has yet to formally accept him as a Master, merely a potential master. Following his death, the Grail would simply choose another, perhaps even a civilian of the street if their desire proves strong enough…" or dark enough, "and none of us want that do we?"

"Not to mention he's _her _son." I point at Arturia, who had thus far remained silent and watched our back and forth with a small indescribable smile. "So no, rejected."

"Then we cut of his hand with the Command Seals and turn it into a Mystic Code with which we can summon and control another servant." Rin declares.

"Also rejected." I shut it down. "You have prodigal amounts of mana and access to a layline, but it would still be too impractical." The thought of a proud hero obeying a severed arm as a master is rather far-fetched.

Though it _would _be possible to go the "mysterious voices" route that would require an extensive set up and time we don't have.

"Plus _he_," I point at the only other _he _around, "wields a two-handed sword. It would be a mighty shame to cripple a budding swordsman before he blooms. More so in this modern era."

Once more Rin bites down on (what was probably) a scathing retort.

"We kidnap and hypnotise him, conceal him in a safe location and use him as a puppet-master. Passing orders through him, then dealing with his servant in an ambush or simply outing them as a sacrificial pawn during the war. In the end he would be released with no harm done other than a fuzzy memory and a killing headache… _a fraction of what he deserves._" My princess proposes.

"Reje-Eh...?" Actually. "Hmm?" I can find no fault in that. I specialise in self-hypnotism, but I'm still far from unskilled when hypnotising others.

I give the now slightly sweating boy a considering look. He speeds up.

"Oh look, we're here!" He throws open one last sliding door revealing a quaint little yard lit by starlight.

How convenient.

Rin also calms down so I let the idea settle. Through technically feasible and probably safer in the long run, this is much more interesting. I also don't think Arturia would take kindly to me kidnapping her son, wouldn't want her angry at me.

"Goodie." I feel my blood starts to pump harder. This was different from earlier, this is no giddy excitement, but rising bloodthirst.

The joy of finding an old foe. A faint echo of a scent invaded my nostrils… it was the smell of salt.

I let out a long, steadying breath as I stared at the shed we were lead to.

_Gacha my old enemy. _

We meet again.

.

.

"What would thee wish from me?"

"Smiths, architects and a labour force." I answer promptly.

There was a brief pause, then a quite "eh?" from the side before the king continued.

"... Thou dost not wish to become my knight?"

"Nah, I'm good."

.

.

.

**AN**: That cut of quite abruptly? Yeah, I think so too.

This was meant to be a fair bit longer, there was some more stuff I had planned but seeing as this chap is already 37 pages (8,041 words, longest yet) on my google docs, and I'm only 3/5 done, I think it can be split into 2 parts.

I've delayed this enough as it was anyway, just wanted to get it out.

I've made you all wait. Sorry guys.

Also those of you requesting a FGO omake and such, sorry, can't do that. Because it would not be an omake but CANON. Bwuhahahaha! Can't believe I haven't explained this yet, it has been my plan since the very beginning.

Well, _maybe _I will. Dunno. Best not to be too absolute about anything.

Now that I've starting writing here, I've got the thought of writing Artus's full FGO profile (Gamepress style) stuck in my head.

Eh.

The Changeling will be multi-franchise. I don't mean it will be a crossover, Artus will stay within the realms of Nasuverse, but if you're thinking the story will end with Stay night, ya dead wrong.

Fate/Zero, Fate/Apocrypha and yes, Fate Grand Order are all confirmed. Not too sure about Extella and the other Hakuno ones, I'll have to play the games or read the manga, but there is potential.

I also want to put Artus in Fate/Strange Fake. It is to date, my favorite fate manga.

I don't want to spoil much, but Gilgamesh and Enkidu are in (their first meeting and face down gave me a nerdgasm), there's an anti-hero of biblical proportions, a King Arthur fanboy, a Dead Apostle Ancestor annnnnd Zelretch doing some of the narration from a fancy chair, because why not?

It doesn't quite have the depth and character development of Zero (thus far) but the intensity and grit is on point.

Up to chapter ch 14 on Kiss Manga plus a completed light novel as its base.

On a side note; Fate/Zero is my fav anime, best (manga) art style goes to "Fate/Grand Order: Epic of Remnant - Shinkai Dennou Rakudo .PH" (yes that is its full name) manga.

Anyway, I've strayed a bit. Point is, those of you who want an FGO omake will have to wait a bit I'm afraid, There is an order and I don't want to spoil anything. There is also a vague overarching plot, but that's not fully decided either.

Still if any of y'all want to do some omakes yourselves be my guest!

All that aside, I'd like to thank you all for the continued support. This, like most of my stuff, has taken far longer to finish than I'd hoped.

Once more I would like to apologise for the wait, but still:

Thanks for reading. I'll see you next time.


	10. Chapter 10: Going Nowhere

**~Past~**

* * *

The political landscape of Camelot is one not as firm as it may seem, but nor was it as unstable as one might dread.

The king rules supreme while nobles vie for power and the crown's favour. Knights keep the peace through show of arms and the common folk do their jobs… The pyramid is inherently stable, but complacency is starting to settle in.

The king has his eye on long term goals while the nobles desire immediate gratification. The common people are largely a non-issue but some reassurances from the crown would not go amiss.

The nobles want for war. The king does not. The peasants prepare for winter.

It's hardly a powder-keg, you couldn't even call it troubled waters. It was simply another royal court. This is the norm.

All in all, there was no pressing issue needing to be addressed nor was I caught up in the crossfire of some political cold-war… not counting Morgana's bid to have Mordred knighted.

With that in mind, my wish for a labour force was being processed fairly quickly. I have but a week before they are gathered and we set off for my home.

As such, I decided to take it easy for a bit.

That is how I found myself strolling leisurely under the shadows of the outer walls with my companion.

* * *

**~Past~**

* * *

Mordred was glaring at me. Again. Her heated gaze beamed out from within her helm. Quite the temperamental one my new friend is, but, well, I get it. I just "betrayed" her. By turning down the offer to be a knight.

It's not that she's angry about me turning down the offer _because _it's what she lost the chance to take, it's merely the fact that I turned down the offer in the first place.

As her new, and perhaps only, friend she somewhat expected me to share the same objectives as her.

As it turns out, I do not. Thus the glaring. She _is _still a child.

I should fix this.

"Let's spar later." I offer.

The heat in her gaze falters. I feel her confusion. She considers. Then nods resolutely.

Problem not solved. Problem merely postponed but It'll have to do for now, there are other matters on the horizon... The _Wizard _lurks.

He is strange to my senses. He bares the same scent as the nature that surrounds us, yet he is not _one _with it. Instead he sticks and rides and slides _around _nature, his signature camouflaged, like a gecko.

Or perhaps a transparent slime monster.

Whichever.

He's been dipping in and out the outer reaches of my senses frequently. I've a telling suspicion telling suspicion he's testing my boundaries, laying lines and marking my space.

It's mildly irritating. Nobody likes being dissected, least of all so blatantly, but good company kept my temper in check.

So I ignored the wizard best I could, let him lurk, made no move to shunt him or greet him.

Fortunately our vexing flirting sesion seems to have come to an end. The wizard makes his way directly to our location.

I sigh.

"Shall we take a seat?" I gesture to some large stone bricks, likely leftovers from building the walls. "Wait for our guest in comfort?"

"Guest?" Mordred asks even as she moves to sit.

"Yes." The bricks are quite large, a meter in length and width, slightly less in height. "Did Morgana warn you of Merlin?"

Mordred choked on air.

* * *

**~Present~**

* * *

Dark, dingy and shadowed, this was a fitting place to roll the dice of salt.

One might hope the dreaded Gacha would be prevented by the presence of such potent catalysts… _Rin_, her pendant, _Shirou_, Avalon, _Arturia_, her very existence… but I am not so naive.

They do not beget a certain summon, this is no "paid" summon. Nay. This is merely… merely a _banner_. Yes. There is no certainty here, the presence of catalyst merely means… a… pick up… "rate up".

And as we all know…

_**RATE UP IS A LIE!**_

**IT IS FALSE!** _IT IS A TRICK!_ **IT IS BAD CIVILISATION! **

FUUUUCKK! Ereshhhhh! Whyyyyy?!

**210 **Saint Quarts _don'tchaknow_?! **7** "**x10**" Summons! But _nooooooo~ _**Nope**! _Nada_! AHHHHHH! _E-CHAANNNNN~_

**ERESH WHY U NO COME HOME!?**

Rate up is a lie.

I will not be fooled again. My naivety has been crushed so thoroughly, so utterly, that even with all present today… I still mentally prepare myself for Darius.

Kiyohime would be alright though. As would Nezha I guess. They're cute. Also Arash is a bro.

But alas! The chances of getting a shit Servant like Gilles or Brock or Benkei or Mozart or Opera-boy is _**too damn high! **_

(**AN**: But don't talk shit about my first bae Mata Hari)

She's precious.

_Mmmmmmm~_

"... What's _wrong _with you?"

"What?" I open my eyes to look at my summoner.

"You face just went from trepidation, to indignity, to rage, anguish, thoughtfulness, then finally to contentment." She finished the list. "Why?"

"Eh..." I blinked. "This… This setup... I was reminded of past battles."

"Huh?" Rin cocked her head. "How does _this _remind you of Britain?"

"No, no" I shake my head. "These battles were mine, and my own… years before I joined the knights."

Arturia tuned slightly to me, even as she and Shirou went about making a circle. I decided to ham it up.

"They were lonely things," I began, "conducted by lonely hearts," so lonely, "all for the sake of a single ray of light in a dull world." Our waifu. "We fought ferociously for a fleeting joy, a single chance. A happiness we would never truly touch," I looked off into the distance, eyes twinkling, "but one we deemed precious nonetheless." I put on a wan smile.

Rin and sonny-boy's eyes were on me, circle forgotten, Arturia listened while her movements slowed.

"Aye… it was a war without end, without victory, only measures of loss." I clenched my fist. "It was a terrible, terrible war." I let my hand flop.

"This, run down and dim in ambience." I gestire to the shed. "Reminds me of the places we'd call our war councils." The forums were a dark place. "I was taken aback for a moment."

There was silence as I finished my small story. My Charisma skill boosting the effects more than I'd thought.

_Hell's bells that was hammy._

"Hmm." The silent staring was broken by Arturia's hum. "So that is what you experienced while in the care of the fae." She stated more than asked. "You had been fighting long before you joined us and yet-" She winced, then continued in a softer voice, "and yet we doubted you for so long…" her shoulders sagged, her very person seemed to exude a sense of shame…

… _Well now I just feel like a douche._

* * *

**~Past~**

* * *

"What up douche-bag." I greeted the white haired troll-incubus-human-wizard thing.

"What… up?" He actually looks up. "... The sky?" Holy crap he actually said it. "A bird perchance?" This is so weird. "Also, _douche_...? I know not what this word means, nor its relation with a bag." So very weird. "Might the large sir perhaps explain?"

He looked up at me sitting on a rock with honest curiosity. I found it strange. Not only the surrealness of the situation, but also it was as if the halfling before me was a different person from he I spied last night.

"You're a lot more human today." I say instead of answering. Not sure how I would explain what 'douche' means anyway. "Is it a day-night thing? Man under the sun, Incubus come the moon?"

I hear two mouths click shut. Four eyes ogle me disbelievingly.

I blink. _What did I sa- ohhhh._

"Ah. My apologies, was that a secret?" I ask sheepishly. Well, given the church's not inconsiderable presence, I guess a literal half-demon would not be widely accepted as the King's advisor.

Come to think of it, I've not actually heard much about Merlin since arriving here save that he's a reclusive wizard whom the king holds council with on occasion.

Is Merlin not so pertinent to the round table yet?

"Y-yes. That was indeed a secret." Oops. "One I had thought I'd safeguarded effectively." The wizard pulled himself together. "Apparently not as well as I hoped." The curiosity in his eyes tripled. "Might the large sir share his sources?"

There was no threat, not even implied, in his voice I was happy to realise. It was a simple question and nothing else.

I felt compelled to answer with equal sincerity.

"Understand that there are aspects I _should not _tell you." I emphasis a _should _instead of a _can't_, appealing to the emotional side instead of logical. "So I will choose my words carefully, this may make them vague, but trust that I am giving you the most information I can if you would."

I get a round of nods from Merlin and Mordred, both listening attentively. "There was a collection of... texts I've read in the past, that detailed people and subjects of this era from the perspective of future generations." I described the wiki as ambiguously as possible. "It lacked intricate detail, they were heavily edited and often completely wrong, but it gave the reader a good idea on the common knowledge of a far off land." Sorta.

"Having been written from the perspective of a neutral party looking back, the information was usually free of political bias which was useful." I muse, getting into crafting my backstory. "Well, to sum it up, the _thing _was a tome, though not one you would recognise, of the present as it was judged by history…" Wait a sec.

I blink.

Isn't this bad?

I carefully _not _glance at Mordred.

I was having too much fun, I've overplayed my hand. If this makes its way back to Morgana, who knows what will change? How might she plan _around _me. I would lose a most valuable advantage of foreknowledge.

Bugger.

A'ight, damage control.

"That's amazing!" Mordred conveniently gives me my que.

"No, It isn't really." I made sure not to answer _too _quickly.

"Eh?" Mordred sounds confused, but Merlin looked like he was expecting this.

"Such a convenient thing, no doubt there are drawbacks?" Merlin states rhetorically. I regain my calm, pleased the "nerfing" will not be seen as an attempt to conceal information.

"Correct." I affect a rueful tone to my voice. "The texts have a catch, and a major one at that." I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You tend to forget most of everything that you'd read."

Uhhhh...

That's a pretty shit drawback innit?

"Hah! Makes sense I suppose." Merlin barked out a laugh and agreed with my brilliance.

"Wha-?" Lil Mo-mo was adorably confused, looking back and forth between the two of us as we grinned. "Why did you read them then?" May I also mention the adult voice layered atop Mordred's base had become completely see(hear)-through to me at this point, allowing an unfiltered and pure girl's voice to reach my ears.

Not sure what Merlin was hearing but I'll just assume he hears the same.

"I said _most _is forgotten, not all." I corrected with a small smile. "Forgive me, I exaggerated when boasting of the texts, this lead you to an inflated view of them."

"Well…" I scratch a fang, stalling slightly while refining my story. "Put it this way, they were indeed texts written of the past from a future point of view, but what I read was not texts on _history_, but texts on past _cultures_." Yes, that is good.

"Or at least, that is what I remember of them." I continue. "What I took away from reading them was of far off cultures, merely referenced to history, but for all I know, perhaps it was the opposite way around? My mind scrubbed by the magic of the texts leaving only scraps of culture as its impression." I shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Magic that _reads _the timeline, not merely _seeing _it, no matter in what form, is on the level of True Magic." The Memelin nodded along. "Whatever magic purged you of the heretical knowledge would have been enforced by the will of the world. It would have been thorough indeed."

I agreed with the hypothetical reasoning, also; "Gaia or the Counter Force, yes." Boom, name drop.

The has-dicc-wiz was once more taken aback by my Sue-like knowledge. "Yes… should the knowledge read threaten the Human Order, I imagine the Counter Force would step in as well…" He trailed off, looking at me pondering.

I smiled and nodded.

_What were we talking about again?_

* * *

**~Present~**

* * *

Saber fretted around Saber.

Rin liked watching her Servant panic. It was a rare thing, but the few moments filled her with joy and warmth. She felt content, for Rin was a sadist at heart. A total Dom.

_She was actually a switch, but she didn't know that yet._

Rin was still quite confused on _what _exactly the former Servant could be classified as currently, but the honest regret and guilt her Artus showed at causing the lady even the slightest discomfort, proved beyond a doubt she was indeed the legendary King of Britain of ages past.

… And her Servant's original liege-lord.

Rin thought it was a strange time to get possessive.

"-ean it wasn't like I was, eh, _easy _to get along with back then, an-" She watched dispassionately as her Servant attempted to pacify the woman. Unfortunately, said actions only served to further the lady's shame.

Artus had proved himself an old hand at manipulating interpersonal relations over the past week, this dim-witted side was surprising… and irritating.

Rin was disappointed… and irritated. Did I mention irritated? She was irritated.

Rin felt an ugly feeling well up from withi- **Rin was jealous!**

… _Can't be bothered with the build up huh? Lazy ass._

Rin Tohsaka, ever since she was fourteen, a mere year into her puberty, the girl posessed certain selfish desire. One might even call it sinful! Normally the desire was locked away, but recently the exposure to Servants and the looming pressure of combat has forced it to surface-

It was the desire… **to have a harem!**

… _Wow, really throwing them curve balls._

Seeming member numero uno acting unfaithful to his glorious mistress, Rin Tohsaka, had finally reached her peak in tolerance!

Disobedience can be forgiven. Backtalk might be allowed. But infidelity _must be punished! _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! Rin went Super Saiyan in rage and spanked her servant (and the hussy) with her golden, divine, iron, **god-hand**!

… _That's a load of bulltshit._

Yes it is.

Uh, well, in all seriousness, Rin was possessive of Artus due to the care he had shown her and stuff, the magic lessons don't hurt either, probably some other things to do with her dead dad and childhood trauma too...

Rin quitely huffed and lightly tapped her foot in impatience. The sounds might as well have been gunshots to the servants', both former and current, keen ears.

Arturia's senses had not degraded to the point of mundanity just yet.

The self-feeding cycle of negativity, guilt from Artus, shame from Arturia, ceased awkwardly. Both froze in place as they realised their own actions.

The male shuffled in place, hands still held in front of him placentingly, while the female just went very, very still.

The former saber seemed to be on the verge of tears.

… As was the current saber for that matter.

It was at this moment that the one other person in the shed, previously silent, made his move. Like a hunting hawk descending on ot's prey, Shirou Emiya moved with ruthless precision, swooping in at this fragile time, mercilessly attacking his victim with… a hug.

The boys arms wrapped around his mother figure.

Arturia was defeated completely and utterly. Her ahoge wove the white flag. Not that she wasn't already conquered anyway. This was more like Shirou was spitting in the wound, but in a positive way. Shirou would rather rip out his tongue than spit at his mother.

… _Though, given the former servants current mentality, she'd probably enjoy it._

That analogy took a weird turn.

_This third-person narration sure has become trippy huh?_

Yeah.

Still, Shirou putting his protagonist skill (B+) to work somehow managed to knock Artus out of his funk. His hands lowered, but he did not move, instead watched the duo cuddling on their knees with curiosity.

Sonny-boy, otherwise known as "justice-puppy", the "Emiya brat", "idiot", and "potential grand-kid", had subconsciously been moved up in importance in Artus' head. Previously a mere oddity, Artus had now been shown how integral the boy was to Arturia's stability.

With slight disappointment, he discarded a few plans and plots that centred around the boy.

Not all of them however. At the same time the other master rose in importance, Artus also began mentaly preparing himself to fell his former liege.

For should his master and the other truly come to blows, he would slay the boy without hesitation. That would then lead to said inevitability…

Artus was a knight. Though few truly recognised it, he truly was an outstanding knight. He would only faithfully serve one.

Right now, he owed his loyalty to a feisty little mage and no other. When all was said and done, he would stay by her side. He would not stray, he would not waver. He would see her to glory and happiness.

_Even if that meant killing his king._

He eyed his king and her son for a few more seconds, drinking in and thoroughly memorising their appearances, how they comforted each other. How them completed each other. A sword and a sheath.

Turning to his now silent Summoner, he spread his arms and smiled.

'_Leap into my arms!' _his face said.

'_I refuse. Kneel and grovel, worm.'_ She replied.

Artus felt wronged.

* * *

**~Past~**

* * *

"To sum up, history can be changed, it is full of axis and forks, however culture is more set in stone. It is not completely certain of course, but _culture _is by far a more definite thing than _history_." for some reason we were still talking about that. "In concerns to what I remember of history… very little. But it is still there," I tap my head, "as an _echo_." I had refined the story as I went.

"That echo of a memory provides a slight instinct towards certain possible events... one could liken it to a fake Clairvoyance I suppose." I finished. The backstory ended up pretty good for an on the spot lie.

"Wow…" Mordred was filled with wonder. "Where are the texts now?"

"Out of reach." I respond shortly, hinting it was one of those things "I shouldn't" talk about. My friend easily nodded.

Declaring your will to lie before hand and preemptively apologising for it is a useful tactic.

_Feel like a dick for fooling Mordred though._

Deceiving a child… it leaves an oily sensation on my tongue. It is most unpleasant.

"... That was an extensive tangent, but back to the topic." Making backstories is fun, but I don't want to lie anymore. "What's up with your Incubus, human thing?" I ask, having finally remembered what we were originally talking about.

Merlin reflexly looked up briefly. Lol.

"Ah yes." Back to topic. "Well, it's not a matter of day and night, though given your limited information, it was a reasonable estimate." He begins.

"Seeing as we did not actually converse previously, I must say I am impressed you noticed the difference." I nod, accepting the compliment. "What you saw last night, the incubus to my human, was _this…_"

Merlin breathed in, then breathed out his humanity.

I felt a small shudder at seeing the abrupt change. It was not fear, but it was certainly unnerving. It was like watching a coin flip, but human-ish. It just looked unnatural, people are not meant to change that swiftly or completely.

Can you imagine a person with a multiple personality disorder skimming through theirs like they were changing tv channels? I can now. It's strange.

My bugs like it though. They inexplicable multiplied, two becoming threes, fives becoming eights, and subtly trembled, as if resonating with something.

My bugs were still bloated from the feast, stuffed full with magic, they gouged on the presence of two dragon cores, fae blessed weapons, a crown touched by divinity and many others… yet they reacted now. That says something.

I observed the inhuman thing before me. Drank in its aura, memorising it. Its presence was ethereal, less _earthy _than before. No longer a slime monster but a _gas _monster.

Before I could comment it changed once more.

The wizard breathed out, then breathed in his humanity anew. The coin had been flipped back to heads.

I felt a subtle surge of Od… or something like it. '_No,' _I furrow my brow, '_not a surge, a very small continuous flow. Truly miniscule in scale, I only noticed it due to my practise feeding the bugs...'_

"Oh." I put it all together. "Your natural state is that of an incubus, or something close to it. But by using that od-like energy as fuel, you can… awaken(?) and sustain the dormant human, or something close, inside. I imagine that's a simplification, but am I wrong?" This is all new information to me, I don't recall reading this on the wikis.

The now human wizard slowly nodded once while our audience (Mordred) remains silent, but I can almost see the stream escaping her helm.

"An accurate judgement once more from the large sir. Such delicate sensitivity, your magical awareness is not something I would expect from one of giant stock..." The statement is only slightly probing, I silently half-smirk in response. No longer interested in talking myself. Merlin accepts this tactly, he too realises I've given much and received little. Should he wish to foster amicale relations, as he has hinted at by approaching me, he needs to return _something_.

So he continues.

"I do not _awaken _my humanity as you say, I _imitate _it." He holds up a finger. "To awaken something implies one posesess it in the first place. I do not."

I held my tongue and let him talk.

"My humanity is far more fragile than you seem to think, in fact, it is almost non-existent. That "od-like energy" is my, ah, amassed humanity you could say." His lecturing voice was light and drifting, rather pleasant to listen to.

"Said amassed humanity is absorbed from ambient emotions, be it joy, sadness, anger or even boredom; the processes of a human life, the expenditure of emotion, is sustenance to one such as I." As he spoke of his true nature, it inadvertently revealed itself. The Wizard slipping into something foreign for a moment, before he swiftly pulled himself together.

"Think not of me as an equal breed, I am no half human, half incubus, but an incubus with the _potential _to see things from a more human point of view. What is offered to me of humanity is not understanding, but perspective." His shimmering lavender eyes meet mine gold.

"I lack the wisdom of the common man, I lack the knowledge nobles use to rule. I have only barely managed to grasp the information a wizard uses to practice their craft." He smiles. "You see? A wizard, a recluse, is the best I could manage as a human. I can walk no further on this path of man."

He leaned back on his conjured wooden stump- _when did he do that?_\- that served as a chair and awaited my reaction.

On my part, I thought it was all fascinating. I was a nerd at heart after all. Lore is my thing. _Mah jamm~ _But no glaring weakness to exploit.

Not aht I was expecting one, or even if there was, I'm not sure I would so readily use it. This was a simple exchange of information. We are judging our distances, establishing contact.

This was a pre-handshake. It was more than adequate.

I looked at the man across from me. He was inhuman. But I suppose, after staying here for two years, having been affected by **lore **for two years... so am I to an extent.

Thus I took a very inhuman action: I trusted. Sincerely.

I extended an open hand.

"Wanna be friends?"

_Let's shake hands?_

* * *

**~Present~**

* * *

'_How disgustingly heartwarming. Truly. So heartwarming in fact, I've got heartburn.'_

Is… what my normal reaction to such a scene would be, but I must make an exception for the Arturia before me. She is most difficult to bully, or even tease. She is far too… _tender_.

This is an Arturia I have no memory off. The last time I saw Arturia she, and I, were running off of pure adrenaline and our long lasting, desperate desire for closure.

There was also no small amount of hatred on my part, but that's irrelevant and something I don't like thinking of.

_Such memories fall under my Berserker avatar. _

The Arturia now is a far cry from the dull-eyed king of days a yonder.

Indeed her eyes are positively sparkling!

'Cause she's crying. 'Cause of me...

_Ughhh._

Fortunately sonny boy has the situation well in hand, his devious surprise-hug attack was brutally effective. His swift actions preventing me from action further out of character.

_Ughh._

Rin saw that. What the heck me? Why you acting stupid?

_Ugh._

Well whatever. The magic isolation circle that surrounds the building prevents me from picking up my summoner's finer emotions, especially since she clamped down on them with self-hypnosis, but she will be sufficiently wowed as soon as we enter combat.

Which I'm hoping will be fairly soon. Don't want to win the Murder-Death-Kill through _diplomacy _of something.

That would be stupid.

Yeah!

…

I'm not gonna do that okay?

…

Seriously.

…

No.

…

.

* * *

.

* * *

**AN**: I'm really not.

Anyway. This chapter can kindly **go fuck itself**. Gawd.

To sum this chapter up: Meeting the overworked Support servant. Artus lies, regrets it (a bit). Backstory. Filler. Talk. Blah-blah. Mordred acts like an NPC.

That's it! 20 pages of waffle! Just padding! Wtf! I don't like it one bit!

I really wish this chap didn't turn out like this, it's also slightly (round 9 pages) shorter than usual, but I could not bare writing myself into a dead end.

This chapter really went **nowhere**. And I have no idea how it happened. Was it because I was writing in little bits of something?

Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Compulsory excuses.

I was honestly expecting myself to pump out the chapters over the Christmas holls, but obviously that didn't happen. I was far busier than expected.

So that didn't happen.

My apologies.

This is a poor peace offering, but It's all I have right now. I'm truly sorry if it falls short. Just know this is not abandoned. Not by a long shot. I have _**plans**_. I will see them to fruition.

That's all I can think of right now, I wished I got this out sooner, but nonetheless, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I'll see ya when I see ya.


End file.
